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DEBARIM 

1982-83 


EDITOR 


GEORGE W, HARPER 


COVER DESIGN AND 
GRAPHICS 

LAYOUT AND 
PRODUCTION 

EDITORIAL ASSISTANCE 
(NEW TESTAMENT) 


BARBARA ERNST 


ANNE C. HARPER 

WILLIAM JACKSON 
PATRICK ALEXANDER 


© 1983 

Gordon - Conwell Theological Seminary 
South Hamilton, Massachusetts 



FOiBUBWORD 


Creative scholarship is a hallmark of the students at 
Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary. The scholarly 
mosaic is extremely diverse and colorful, ranging from 
biblical and exegetlcal studies to the application of 
theological themes in biography, history, and art. The 
unity of expression is seen in commitment to Ck)d's Word, 
Written and Living, and a firm sense of calling to be 
Cod's servants in the world. 

This issue of DLBARlrl continues the rich tradition of 
student articles of a scholarly nature. Each essay adds 
a unique dimension to the journal, presented by a most 
striking cover designed by Barbara Ernst. The reader 
will be instructed in topics of a theological interest, 
including holy war, the problem of pain, apologetics, 
sabbath-observance, tne Atonement, and much more. The 
1982-83 DEBARIcl is stimulating and helpful reading. It 
is encouraging to read the productions of students 
devoted to a vigorous intellectual life in the achieve-- 
ment of their first graduate level theological degree. 


Robert K« Coolly» President 
Gordon-Conwell Theological Senliiary 



Contents 


Page 


The Battle is YWH»s: 5 

An Inductive Analysis of Holy Mar in 1 Saauel 

by Jackson Wisdom 

”My God, ify God** 17 

The Problem of Evil in the Book of Job 

by Gloria Jan Badger 

The literary Function of Mark 6:6b~13 24 

and Its Message to Mark's Church 

by Patrick H. Alexander 

"He Will Save His Soul From Death" 35 

IQZQ and KAATITin in James 5:20 
by Rick Ray 

Amobius of Sicca: 41 

A Beevaluation of His Apologetic 

by Scott Sunquist 

John Galvin and the Sabbath 53 

by David Dupee 

The Mercersburg Theology of the Eucharist: 67 

John Nevin*s The Mystical Presence 

by David Thatcher 

John Keble and The Christian Year: 74 


An Inquiry into the Bole of the Arts 
in the Renewal of the Church 

by David Currie 

Trichotomy and Authoritarianism: 93 

Watchman Nee and Celtic Abuse 

by G. Thomas Morton 

Atonement and Model: 

An Investigation of the 
Biblical Language of the Cross 

by George W. Harper 


107 




THE BATTLE IS 1BWH*S: 

AN INDUCTIVE ANALYSIS OF HOLY WAR IN I SAMUEL 
by Jackson Wlsdcm 


P.D. Miller asserts that '*the picture of God as 
warrior forms [a] real skandalon for modern man, includ¬ 
ing the Christian."i P.C. Craigie notes that the rela¬ 
tionship between "YHWH, who is a *Man of Wars,* and God 
who is the Father of our lord Jesus Christ" constitutes 
an abiding problem for those who confess a christocen- 
tric understanding of salvation history.2 J.H. Yoder 
observes that the simplistic and heretical dichotomy be¬ 
tween the angry, belligerent God of the Hebrews and the 
Father of Jesus has been widely circulated "ever since 
Marcion.The exegetical difficulties which inhere in 
this dichotomy are, of course. Insurmountable. Jesus 
consistently affirmed that His Father was the Holy One 
of Israel, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.^ This 
affirmation, which evidences the continuity between the 
Old Testament and the New, does not, however, immediate¬ 
ly eliminate the tension which seems to persist in the 
theological-ethical sphere. 

G.D. Kaufman, noting this apparent tension, de¬ 
scribes the Old Testament as "the story of God’s loving 
preparation of a people who originally conceived of Him 
as warring and violent like themselves."^ The assertion 
that "YHWH is a man of war" is thus summarily dismissed 
by Kaufman as a primitive (and, implicitly, inaccurate) 
conception of God. S.T. Davis, commenting upon the nar¬ 
ratives of the conquest, claims that the biblical wri¬ 
ters canmitted the "error of confusing patriotic senti¬ 
ment with God’s wlll."^ Clearly, both Kaufman and 
Davis, in the tradition of Marcion, manifest a refusal 
at this point to take the biblical data seriously. 

Craigie, observing that the position represented by 
Kaufman and Davis "amounts to a rejection of the Old 
Testament as revelation,"^ contends that the biblical 
image of the Divine Warrior must be understood as a 
functional expression of God’s Immanence. 

To describe God as vgarrior is to say that God par¬ 
ticipates in hjman history, ttrough sinful tiinan 
beiqgs, and through what have heccme the nomal 
forms of human activity.^ 

God’s participation in war, according to Craigie, "will 
not justify it or make it holy."^ Even God’s positive 
command (as recorded, for example, in I Samuel 15) does 
not alter the fact that war is a form of evil human ac¬ 
tivity. 

Did God’s ccmraand and presence transform somethirg 
essentially evil into a lx)ly act? Gan the ruthless 


5 



requirement for the extermination of the enemy— 
men, vraoaen, and children—in any way be r^arded as 
holy? I thirk that it cannot! 

Craigie’s analysis is untenable. The □']jn mandate is 
never presented in Scripture as something essentially 
evil or even morally questionable. The biblical data 
suggest that YHWH’s sanction of, and participation in, 
the warfare of ancient Israel was more than an expres¬ 
sion of immanence. Also unwarranted by the biblical 
narratives is Cralgie*s Intimation that God’s presence 
in Israel's battles represents a reluctant concession in 
response to man's disobedience. 

The testimony of Scripture is unequivocal; YHWH is 
a warrior. G.E. Wright lamented that "in our time no 
attribute of the biblical God is more consciously and 
almost universally rejected than this one."^^ This sit¬ 
uation is. Indeed, lamentable. The conscious rejection, 
glib dismissal, or benign neglect of any biblical data 
concerning the nature and activities of God is inexcus¬ 
able. The concept of the Divine Warrior, therefore, 
merits careful analysis* What is the theological signi¬ 
ficance of this concept? The initial stage of this an¬ 
alysis must be exegetical* What did the experience of 
the Divine Warrior mean in the life of ancient Israel? 
The textual focus of this exegetical analysis will be 
the relevant material in the first seventeen chapters of 
I Samuel. A brief examination of the hermeneutical and 
ethical issues raised by the biblical data will conclude 
this essay. 

The Song of Hannah (I Samuel 2:1-10), a conspicu¬ 
ously theocentrlc prophetic hymn of triumph, functions 
as an interpretive key for the history which unfolds in 
the book of Samuel. YHWH, the incomparable God and 
righteous Judge, is depicted as the decisive actor in 
the history of men and nations. The conceptual Imagery 
of holy warfare emerges as a significant theme in this 
poem. Hannah rejoices in the salvation (or deliverance) 
which YHWH effects* The initial antithesis describes an 
amazing reversal in the realm of military strength: "The 
bows of the mighty are broken, but those who stumble put 
on strength" (v.4). The obliteration of YHWH's adver¬ 
saries is linked, both conceptually and grammatically, 
to the activity of the Exalted One who thunders in hea¬ 
ven (v. 10 ab). The central affirmation of Hannah's 

song is a controlling theological principle of warfare 
in ancient Israel: only mn'»3 will the kingdom pre¬ 
vail. YHWH alone is Savior^ This principle, as M.C. 
Lind has argued, is rooted in "Israel's own understand¬ 
ing of the foundation character of the exodus event ... 
i.e. the experience of YHWH as the sole warrior at the 
sea."^^ G. von Rad concurs: 


6 



The sole ^geot in holy vjar was IHWH, the fighter's 
chief duty was to submit confidently to ’fflWH's sway 
and not to be afraid in the face of the enany's 
superior nuoijers—in a woid: to have faith. 

Wright, in a theological reflection upon YHWH's partici¬ 
pation in the wars of Israel, also acknowledges the ver¬ 
acity of this controlling principle: "It [Israel’s mili¬ 
tary triumph] is God’s deed; He is the sole actor; there 
are no human heroesYHWH is the Savior in battle. 

An inductive examination of the battle narratives 
in I Samuel is instructive at this point. Chapter 4:1-3 
describes a battle in which Israel is defeated by the 
Philistines. In v. 3 the elders of Israel reflect upon 
the defeat and contemplate a strategy for future suc¬ 
cess: 

Why has YMi defeated us today before the Philis¬ 
tines? let us take tD ourselves from Shiloh the 
ark of the covenant of IHWH, so that it [or ’He’] 
may go with us and deliver [or ’rescue*] us from 
the hand of our enemies. 

The elders recognize that YHWH is the decisive actor in 
warfare. YHWH, and not the Philistine army, is the 
author of their defeat. His presence represents their 
only hope for salvation or deliverance. Significantly, 
salvation in this particular situation is not forthcom¬ 
ing. The subsequent events (Israel’s defeat and the 
capture of the ark, 4:10-11) reflect God’s judgment upon 
the corrupt leadership of Eli and his family. The story 
of the ark’s captivity and miraculous deliverance from 
the Philistines echoes the exodus account.YHWH, 
whose hand is heavy upon the Philistines (5:11), is 
clearly depicted in this narrative sequence as the pow¬ 
erful Savior. 

Chapter 7:7-14 describes the battle at Mizpah. The 
Israelites, who have made a dramatic return to YHWH 
(7:2), are gathered at Mizpah for the purpose of corpo¬ 
rate fasting and confession.The Philistines, sensing 
an opportunity for a decisive victory, press an attack. 
Note the response of the sons of Israel in 7:7-8: "The 
sons of Israel were afraid ... and said [to Samuel], ’Do 
not cease to cry to YHWH our God for us, so that He may 
save us from the Philistines.’" Once again there is an 
explicit affirmation that YHWH alone is able to save. 
In response to Samuel’s prayer and radical trust, YHWH 
intervenes decisively on behalf of His (cf. I 

Samuel 2:9). He thunders against the Philistines and 
confuses them (7:10; cp. I Samuel 2:10). The Israelites 
attack only after the battle is decided. Samuel’s in¬ 
terpretation of the events is revealing: "Thus far YHWH 
has helped us" (7:12). 


7 



Chapter 11 recounts a battle with the Ammonites. 
The conflict is precipitated by Nahash, wlio besieges (or 
camps against) Jabesh-gilead, refuses a peaceful settle¬ 
ment, and mocks all Israel (11:1-2). Saul, under the 
direct provocation of the Spirit, burns with anger and 
rallies the men of Israel. (The narrative suggests that 
n *^11 ’'is actually the decisive factor in the people’s 
willingness to fight; cf. 11:7). The forces of Israel 
enter the Ammonite camp and strike them down. Saul’s 
interpretation of the events is recorded in 11:13: "To¬ 
day YHWH has accomplished deliverance in Israel." 

Chapter 14 describes an amazing triumph of Jona¬ 
than. The Philistines assemble a great army and camp at 
Mlchmash (13:5). Saul and his people are at Gilgal 
(13:14). In the face of the Philistine strength, how¬ 
ever, Saul’s force is depleted by desertion (13:6-7). 
The Israelites’ situation is certainly desperate. The 
people, with the exception of Saul and Jonathan, have 
neither sword nor spear (13:19-22). 

Jonathan, however, is undaunted. Accompanied only 
by his armor bearer, he presses an attack against the 
Philistine garrison at the pass of Michmash. The bibli¬ 
cal account describes the difficulties involved in this 
in the most graphic terms.Jonathan’s statement in 
14:6 demonstrates a profound understanding of holy war¬ 
fare: "... YHWH is not restrained to save by many or by 
few." YHWH’s saving intervention, and not numerical 
strength, is the decisive factor. YHWH delivers the 
enemy into Jonathan’s hands (14:12). The earth quakes, 
confusion ensues, and the Philistines are thoroughly 
routed (14:15-22). The summary statement in v. 23 is 
noteworthy: "YHWH delivered Israel that day." 

The events recorded in chapter 17 indicate David’s 
understanding of holy warfare. Goliath, the Philistine 
champion, defies the ranks of Israel, the armies of the 
living God (17:10, 26, 36). Only David, youngest son of 
Jesse, accepts the challenge. David’s courage is rooted 
in his personal experience of YHWH’s miraculous deliver¬ 
ance: "YHWH, who delivered me from the paw of the lion 
and from the paw of the bear. He will deliver me from 
the hand of this Philistine" (17:37). David refuses the 
conventional weapons of combat and approaches Goliath 
with only a sling and five smooth stones (17:39-40). 
David’s understanding of holy warfare (i.e. his radical 
trust in YHWH’s ability to save) is evident in his words 
to Goliath: 

You come to me with a awoid, a spear, and a jave¬ 
lin, but I come to you in the naaie of ^WH of 
hosts, the Gad of the armies of Israel, you 
have taunted. This day YHWH will deliver you into 
my hands ... that all may know that YHWH does not 
deliver by tie sword or by spear, for the battle is 
YHWH’s [non^sn .... (17:45^7) 


8 



David states here a theology of warfare which has been 
intimated in Hannah’s song and confirmed in the subse¬ 
quent battle narratives: YHWH, the decisive actor in the 
affairs of men and nations, honors "*90 , not rfl) • 

This controlling theological principle of holy warfare 
is explicitly affirmed by Hannah, Israel's elders, 
Samuel, Saul, Jonathan, and David: YHWH is the Savior in 
battle. 

This principle emerges as an interpretive key in 
dealing with two difficulties in I Samuel. The first 
problem concerns the fact that Israel's desire for a 
king "like the nations" is viewed as a rejection of God 
(I Samuel 10:18). The desire for a king is not inher¬ 
ently wrong—in fact, God himself has promised them a 
king (Genesis 49:10; Deuteronomy 17:14-20). The people 
of Israel, however, want the wrong kind of king: they 
want a deliverer, a savior. This desire, representing a 
rejection of God who is himself the true and effectual 
Savior (I Samuel 10:18-19), is reflected in the assess¬ 
ment of Saul rendered by certain sons of Belial in 
10:27: "How can this one deliver us?" The second prob¬ 
lem concerns the nature of Saul's transgression in chap¬ 
ter 13. Saul's disobedience to the prophetic word of 
Samuel is rooted in his failure to apprehend at this 
point the controlling principle of holy warfare. Saul's 
actions manifest a conspicuous lack of trust in YUWH, 
the decisive actor and effectual Deliverer in holy war. 

The battles examined thus far have been defensive 
in nature. The common conceptual or thematic element in 
each of these narratives has been the confession that 
YHWH is Savior. The Amalekite campaign (1 Samuel 15), 
however, is depicted as a qualitatively distinct type of 
holy warfare. This campaign is offensive in nature; 
YHWH acts not primarily as Deliverer but as Judge. Con¬ 
sider the events recorded in 1 Samuel 13: Samuel, the 
prophet, brings to Saul, the anointed king. 

The substance of the authoritative mandate is found in 
15:2-3: 

Thus says mVH of hosts, I will punish [ “*P V J Ana- 
lek for what hs did to :ferael, how he set himself 
against him when he [Israel] was coodig up fron 
E^t. go and strike Aoaldc and utterly des- 

trcy [ Din ] all that he has, and do not spare him; 
but put to death both man and woman, child and in¬ 
fant, CK and sheep, camel and donkey. 

This is the language of 0*3.0 warfare.In this type 
of warfare, the taking of spoils is expressly prohibit¬ 
ed, for everything is under the "ban." W. Kaiser ob¬ 
serves that the spoils from Din warfare are "the ex¬ 
clusive property of 1MWH."^^ According to P.K. 
McCarter, "to put under the ban was to devote to YHWH: 


9 



i.e. to consecrate as YHWH*s share.This type of 
warfare Is ordinarily reserved for the cities of Canaan 
(Deuteronomy 20:16-17); the Amalekites, however, are the 
"target of a special directiveExodus 17:8-16 de¬ 
scribes Israel’s initial conflict with Amalek. Amalek’s 
attack upon God's people is equated with raising a hand 
against ISlWU's throne (Exodus 17:14). Moses states: 
"YHWH will have war against Amalek from generation to 
generation” (Exodus 17:16). These events are briefly 
recounted in Deuteronomy 25:17-19. The depravity of 
Amalek (which is evidenced by the ruthless nature of the 
attack) is summarized in v. 18: "He [Amalek] did not 
fear God.” In v. 19, the divine mandate concerning the 
Amalekites is formulated in the following terms: "When 
YHWH your God has given you ... then you shall blot out 
the memory of Amalek. ..."23 x Samuel 15 represents the 
fulness of time:^^ Saul's mandate as YHWH's anointed 
king is clear. 

Saul's disobedience to the mandate and the conse¬ 
quences of that disobedience emerge as the dominant con¬ 
cerns of the chapter. The basis of Saul's condemnation 
is not, as D.M. Gunn suggests, a "technical nicety of 
cultic religion," i.e., the distinction between G-in 
and nUT .25 Saul's sin, and the basis of his subse¬ 
quent rejection, is the perversion of justice. Saul 
disregards YHWH's judicial mandate: he rushes upon the 
spoil, spares Agag (probably for the purpose of a tri¬ 
umphal procession), and erects a monument for himself. 
He does not conduct the battle as YHWH's anointed vas¬ 
sal, but in the manner of a pagan king. He perverts the 
justice of YHWH. 

Given the biblical data in the first seventeen 
chapters of I Samuel, what general observations are war¬ 
ranted concerning the theology of warfare in ancient Is¬ 
rael? First, Scripture consistently confirms that YHWH 
is the decisive actor and central figure in the holy 
wars of ancient Israel. Furthermore, two categories of 
holy warfare are dlscernable: defensive and offensive. 
The controlling theological principle of defensive war¬ 
fare is embodied in the confession that YHWH is Savior. 
Offensive warfare, which is waged in response to a di¬ 
rect command from God, is rooted in YHWH's unique pre¬ 
rogative as the sovereign and effectual Judge of men and 
nations. These categorical assertions, of course, must 
not obscure the fact that YHWH's judicial balancing is 
also dlscernable in the defensive wars of Israel. The 
offensive (or judgment) wars, however, reflect in a dis¬ 
tinctive manner the phenon^non of intrusion. 26 This 
pattern of action in Din warfare, as M.G. Kline has 
observed, "is not consonant with the customary applica¬ 
tion of the law of God according to the principle of 
common grace."27 Divinely sanctioned DTH warfare 
represents an intrusion of the ethical principles of the 
last judgment. The Amalekite campaign should be under- 


10 



stood, therefore, as an Instance of "anticipated escha¬ 
tology. The theology of warfare in ancient Israel 

may be summarized in two statements: (1) YHWH is Savior; 
(2) YHWH is Judge. These statements together convey the 
concrete meaning of the inspired confession recorded in 
Exodus 15:3: "YHWH is a warrior." 

At this point in the analysis, it is necessary to 
examine the concept of the Divine Warrior, and its bib¬ 
lical corollary of holy war, on the hermeneutical 
level. What is the contemporary relevance, the meaning 
in the "here and now," 29 of the laws which regulated the 
warfare of ancient Israel and the narratives which de¬ 
scribe that warfare? The significance of this material 
for the community of the New Covenant is not difficult 
to discern. The imagery of holy warfare permeates the 
New Testament corpus. Jesus Christ, the incarnate 
, is both Savior and Judge. He is the warrior—the 
champion who has secured deliverance for His people. 

He disarmed the powers and authorities, "and made a pub¬ 
lic spectacle of them, triumphing over them by the 
cross" (Colossians 2:15, NIV). The Church, which is en¬ 
gaged in a cosmic struggle against the powers of evil (2 
Corinthians 10:3-6; Ephesians 6:10-17), should derive 
great comfort from the pattern of holy warfare in an¬ 
cient Israel. YHWH is still a warrior: the battle be¬ 
longs to Him, and the triumph of His Icingdom is assur¬ 
ed. Wright, who correctly observes that Israel's wars 
"become no mandate for wars by God's people today 
(cp. John 18:36), offers a compelling description of 
this assurance. 

The stroqg active power given Japgu^ in the 
Warrior-lDid means that there is a force in the 
universe set £gainst the forces of evil and perver¬ 
sity. life, then, is a battle^ound, but the 
Divine Warrior will not be defeated .^2 

Are the patterns of warfare in the Old Testament 
normative for societal ethics outside the theocratic or¬ 
der of ancient Israel? It seems clear that the pattern 
represented by the offensive wars of judgment should be 
viewed as neither a mandate nor a precedent for modern 
warfare. Kline has noted that it is singularly inappro¬ 
priate for the formulator of Christian ethics to "found 
matters of present Christian duty upon cases of intru¬ 
sion ethics.G. Bahnsen, who is not persuaded by 
Kline's concept of Intrusion, nevertheless agrees that 
Israel's offensive warfare provides no general ethical 
mandate. 

llie warrant for aggressive warfare came only to fe¬ 
rae! by direct revelation and upon special ciroim- 
stanoes (God's tanporal judgment upon an sbooiinable 
society). Such direct revelation has ceased today; 


11 



no nation can claim the right to aggressive vgar- 
fare. 


When the question of ethical normatlvlty Is posed 
with respect to the wars of defense, the hermeneutical 
task becGoies far more complex. Three distinct approach¬ 
es to this Issue merit attention. One approach, which 
has recently been advocated by Yoder and A. Gish, main¬ 
tains that the Old Testament laws and patterns of war¬ 
fare have no relevance to the secular State. The Issue, 
according to Yoder, **ls not one of ethical generaliza¬ 
tions and the limits of their validity.” Instead, "the 
Issue to which this experience [l.e., holy war] speaks 
Is the readiness of God's people to be dependent upon 
miracles for survival.Yoder contends that this bib¬ 
lical material establishes the rationale for the nonre- 
slstaht New Testament Church. Gish concurs: the point 
of holy wars Is to demonstrate that "we can trust God 
completely for the victory.This approach assumes 
that the Church, which operates within the realm of 
faith. Is called to obey th6 distinctive ethics of the 
already-1naugur a ted-but-not-ye t-c ons umma ted klng dom. 

The State, which operates within the secular sphere (or 
tho realm of unbelief), cannot be expected to adhere to 
the standards of radical dl^clpleshlp.^^ The patterns 
of warfare In the Old Testament provide encouragement to 
the Church but offer no substantive ethical norms for 
the secular State. Advocates of this approach suggest 
that the Interpreter who attempts to find an ethical ra¬ 
tionale or prescription for modern warfare In the laws 
and narratives of the Old Testament Is simply bringing 
the wrong questions to the text. 

A second approach, which has recently been articu¬ 
lated by R.J. Kushdoony, maintains that the biblical 
laws of warfare (Including the stipulations concerning 
cultlc purity for the soldiers and for the military 
camp) are Indeed normative for the modern State. 
Rushdoony further maintains that God's promise of vic¬ 
tory may also be claimed by a righteous army engaged In 
a modern war of Godly reconstruction. 

Where a war Is weged In terms cf Obd's law aid In 
faith and obedience to His lavM«oid, there men can 
count on His protecting and prospering care even as 
Israd. ocperlenoed It.^ 

This approach assumes that God's mandate for the Church 
includes the establishment (or reconstruction) of Chris¬ 
tian (l.e., theocratic) states. 

A third approach maintains that the documented phe¬ 
nomenon of defensive warfare and the language of Deute¬ 
ronomy 20, when viewed In light of Genesis 9:6 and Ro¬ 
mans 13:1-7, suggest that God has given general permis¬ 
sion for a state to defend Itself against an aggressor. 


12 



This approach, however, would deny that defensive war¬ 
fare which is waged in the sphere of common grace is a 
holy endeavor. The stipulations of cultic purity and 
the concomitant promise of God’s protection are not 
transferable from the theocratic order of ancient Israel 
to the common grace order of the modern State. This ap¬ 
proach recognizes that Deuteronomy 20 in its original 
context represented God's particular Instructions and 
promises to His chosen people (the battle narratives in 
I Samuel describe their concrete historical applica¬ 
tion), but argues that those points which are relevant 
to the conduct of non-theocratic warfare can be trans¬ 
posed. This approach assumes that Christians are com¬ 
pelled by the cultural mandate to participate fully in 
the sphere of common grace. This mandate legitimates, 
and often commends, participation in the proper exercise 
of the State's military function. 

A thorough critique of these three approaches would 
require a comprehensive evaluation of the distinctive 
hermeneutical methodologies and presuppositions which 
have influenced their shape.Regrettably, an inclu¬ 
sive exploratory exercise in the field of comparative 
hermeneutics is beyond the scope of this analysis. 

The challenge presented by such an exercise is im¬ 
mense. The complexity of the task and the importance of 
the question are evident in contemporary discussion con¬ 
cerning the foundational issue of the relationship be¬ 
tween the testaments. Two radically divergent hermeneu¬ 
tical principles are currently being espoused within the 
evangelical community: some hold that unless an Old 
Testament law is somehow restated or reinforced in the 
New Testament, it is no longer directly binding on God's 
peopleothers insist that unless an Old Testament law 
is explicitly abrogated in the New Testament, it contin¬ 
ues to be binding on God's people. 

If the first principle is applied, the Old Testa¬ 
ment laws of warfare are seen as no longer binding. Es¬ 
sentially, this is the hermeneutical principle which is 
operative in the approach of Yoder and Gish mentioned 
above. The qualitative distinction between the manifes¬ 
tation of the Reign of God in the Old and New Testaments 
is the key to this approach. 

The Jaws of wac are an exaoople of laws \jhich speci¬ 
fically concerned tte fmctionlig of the state of 
Israel, ferae! was the manifestation of the RLrg- 
dom of God in Old Testament times. But the concep¬ 
tion of the KLrgdom of God in the teachixg of Jesus 
is quite different; the Kirgdom is no lotger iden¬ 
tified with the nation state. Ihe transformation 
of the concept of the Kingdom means that the laws 
of war cannot he translated to fit the new con¬ 
text. 


13 



If the second hermeneutical principle is applied, 
the laws of war are seen as still binding on the people 
of God. Recognizing, however, that it is the State and 
not the Church which has been entrusted with the sword, 
advocates of this principle maintain that the people of 
God must endeavor to bring the State into compliance 
with civil legislation which has been revealed in Scrip¬ 
ture. This principle is operative in varying degrees in 
the second and third approaches mentioned above. 

The full resolution of this issue would demand fur¬ 
ther inquiry into, and dialogue concerning, the follow¬ 
ing rudimentary questions: (1) What is the nature of the 
State? (2) What Is the relationship of the Church to the 
State? (3) To what extent are the civil laws of the Old 
Testament normative for the modern State? Obviously, 
this issue will not be fully resolved in this paper. In 
conclusion, however, the following observations may be 
advanced: 

1. The point of the holy war narratives (i.e., the in- 
tentionallty of the text) is clear. YHWH is a war¬ 
rior who Intervenes decisively in behalf of His 
people. He was active in the holy wars of ancient 
Israel as Savior and Judge. 

2. The significance of these passages for the Church 
is also clear. Jesus Christ is the warrior who has 
intervened decisively and secured deliverance for 
Uls people. The Church, which is engaged in spir¬ 
itual warfare, is called to be strong in the Lord 
and to proclaim peace (i.e., the terms of surren¬ 
der) to the nations. YHWH, the triumphant King, 
will usher in the Kingdom in its fulness. 

3. The significance of these narratives for the State 
is less certain. It is sufficient at this point to 
note that the fact that Israel fought in defense of 
the Holy land does not necessarily imply that 
Christians today are obligated, or even permitted, 
to participate as combatants in a war of defense. 
Further exploration in the field of comparative 
hermeneutics must precede a definitive statement on 
this matter. 


14 



Notes 

^ P.D. Miller, ”God the Warrior: A Problem in Biblical Interpreta¬ 
tion and Apologetics,” Interpretation 19 (1965):40. 

2 P.C. Craigie, "Yahweh is a Man of War,” Scottish Journal of 
Theology 22 (1969):184. 

5 See J.H. Yoder’s introduction to M.C. Lind’s Yahweh is a Warrior 
(Scottsdale, Pennsylvania: Herald Press, 1980), p. 17. 

^ For a comprehensive assessment of Jesus’ affirmation of the Old 
Testanent, see J.W. Wenhan, Christ and the Bible (London: Tyndale 
Press, 1972). 

^ G.D. Kaufman, Systematic Theology: A Hiatoriciat Perspective 
(New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1971), p. 91. 

^ S.T. Davis, The Debate about the Bible (Philadelphia: Westmin¬ 
ster: 1977), p. 97. 

^ P.C. Craigie, The Problem of War in the Old Testament (Grand 
Rapids: Eerdmans, 1978) p. 37. 

® Ibid., p. 41. 

9 Ibid., p. 43. 

Ibid., p. 49. 

"*1 G.E. Wri^t, The Old Testament and Theology (New York: Harper 
and Row, 1969), p. 122. 

^2 M.C. Lind, Yahweh is a Warrior, p. 50. 

G, von Rad, Studies in Deuteronomy (London: Henry Regnery, 
1953), p. 43. 

Wright, p. 121. 

"*5 See Lind, pp. 97-98. 

The language of the text and the geographic location suggest 
that this was a formal ceremony of covenant renewal. 

See H.W. Hertzberg, I and II Samuel (Philadelphia: Westminster, 
1976), p. 112$ note especially the description of the impassable land¬ 
scape. 

See Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible, s.v. "Devoted,” by 
M.H. Pope. 

^9 w. Kaiser, Toward an Old Testament Theology (Grand Rapids: Zon- 
dervan, 1978), p. 127. 

P.K. McCarter, I Samuel (New York: Dotbleday, 1980), pp. 

265-266. 

21 Ibid.; cp. J.W. Wenham’s discussion in The Goodness of God 
(Downers Grove, Illinois: InterVarsity Press, 1974), pp. 123-125. 

^2 Following the emendation of the MT suggested by the editors of 
Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia , p. 115. 

Amalek, as these verses suggest, is depicted as more than a 
rival nation. P.K. McCarter, p. 256, describes the Amalekites as ”the 
archetypal plunderers in biblical tradition.” Even this description is 
too tame. The book of Esther demonstrates the abiding hostility be¬ 
tween Amalek (’’the seed of the serpent”) and God’s people. See W. 
McKane, "A Note on Esther IX and I Sanuel XV," JTS 12 (1961): 260-261, 
for an analysis of the continuities and discontinuities between these 
two texts. 

The arrangement of this material is based on thematic interests 
and is not strictly chronological. 

25 d.M. Gunn, The Fate of King Saul (Chicago: n.p., 1975), p. 55. 

M.G. Kline, The Structure of Biblical Authority (Grand Rapids: 


15 



Eerdmans, 1978), pp. 154-171. 

27 Ibid., p. 158. 

28 Ibid., p. 164. 

2^ See G.O. Fee and D. Stuart, How to Read the Bible for All Its 
Worthy (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1982), p. 25. 

Christ’s victory at Golgotha should bring to mind the victory 
of an earlier champion in holy war—David, viho secured deliverance for 
Israel by slaying Goliath. See Hertzberg, p. 153. 

G.E. Wright, p. 130. 

52 Ibid. 

55 m.G. Kline, pp. 170-171. 

5* G. Bahnaen, Theonowy in Chriatian Ethics (Nutley, New Jersey: 
The Craig Press, 1979) p. 526. 

J.H. Yoder, The Original Revolution (Scottsdale, Pennsylvania: 
Herald Press, 1972), p. 107. 

A. Gish, "Sacrificial Love," Post American , November, 1974, p. 

9. 

See J.H. Yoder, The Christian Witness to the State (Newton, 
Kansas: Faith and Life Press, 1964), pp. 1-73. 

^ R.J. Rushdoony, The Institutes of Biblical Law (Nutley, New 
Jersey: The Craig Press, 1973), pp. 276-277. 

Ibid., p. 277. 

The essays and responses in War: Four Christian Views , edited 
by R.C. Clouse (Downers Grove, Illinois: InterVarsity Press, 1981), 
demonstrate the need to first assess operating principles and assump¬ 
tions. See M.S. Augsberger's comments, pp. 82-83. 

G.D. Fee and D. Stuart, p. 137. 

^2 p.c. Craigie, The Problem of War in the Old Testament , p. 102. 





16 



"MY GOD, MY OOir 

The Problem cf Evil in the Book of Job 
by Gloria Jan Badger 

God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” This 
is the cry of Job, the cry centuries later of another 
Son of Man, the cry which echoes through the ages as 
countless anonymous sufferers attempt to grasp the "why” 
behind their agony. The story of Job has been preserved 
to offer suffering mortals a measure of solace, as well 
as to provide a clue as to the appropriate response to 
human pain. 

The puzzle presented in Job's story is as simple as 
it is timeless. Job and his friends are agreed upon 
both the infinite goodness and the infinite power of 
God (cf. Job 9:24; 10:12-15; 13:18; 23:3-7). Job is ap¬ 
parently regarded as a sage in his community, well esta¬ 
blished in this received wisdom. Fundamental to his 
world view is the belief that God shapes the circum¬ 
stances of one's life as a judgment on ethical conduct. 
Equally well-established—for the reader by virtue of 
God's pronouncement in the prologue, and for Job by vir¬ 
tue of an honest self-evaluation—is the righteousness 
of Job himself. All has gone well with Job for many 
years, doubtless reinforcing his conception of God's 
dealings with man: Job's godliness and concern to do 
God's will, as evidenced by his frequent sacrifices, are 
obviously being rewarded with material and familial 
blessings. 

Into this pleasant scenario absolute devastation 
descends with such ferocity that one of Job's mindset 
cannot help but see the hand of God. All areas of his 
life are affected. He loses some of his flocks and ser¬ 
vants to raiders, some to "the fire of God” (1:16}« His 
sons and daughters fall victim to a "great wind." Fi¬ 
nally, his own health is taken and he is rejected by his 
wife and ostracized by his community. Job feels the 
sting of every form of evil experienced by man: suffer¬ 
ing brought about by the misuse of human freedom (the 
raiders); calamity from the hand of nature (fire and 
wind); the pain of mortality (sickness); and the emo¬ 
tional trauma we know as social beings (rejection by 
wife and neighbors). Although any one of these could 
conceivably be blamed on a lesser agent. Job's concept 
of God demands that he acknowledge the Ultimate Source. 
Moreover, as Job contemplates his personal tragedy, he 
begins to realize that his is not an isolated case. 

F.I. Anderson clearly states the dilemma which Job 
confronts: 

The moral question central to Job arises ffon the 
biblical teaching that a man reaps what he sows—in 
this life. Rewards for virtue and punishoEnts for 
vice cannot all be postponed to heaven and hell. 


17 



But troubJes and benefits are not distributed tD 
mankind by an evei>-handed justice, it i^ould seem* 

The wicked prosper and the righteous suffer**** 

How can [Job], or anyone, continue to believe that 
God is right and fair in v^t He sometimes does to 
peoiHe? There can be no doubt that it is Qod, only 
God, who is responsible for all that happens to 
Job, It cannot be blamed on *lfetLire* or the Devil, 
for these are but His creatures*^ 

This understanding is reflected in Job's famous state- 
ment, "The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away****" 
(1:21) Ih a later speech, the same realization fills 
Job with outrage rather than humility: "God will not 
turn back his anger**** The earth is given into the 
hands of the wicked; He covers the faces of its judges* 
If it is not He, then who is it?" (9:13, 24) 

Alongside the theme of God's absolute power must be 
set the theme of God's absolute justice* Job's counsel¬ 
ors are consistent: they insist that everyone gets 
exactly what he deserves— now , G*K* Chesterton's obser¬ 
vation concerning the motivation of these sages is apt: 
"All that they really believe is not that God is good 
but that God is so stropg that it is much more judicious 
to call Him good*"^ Whether or not this be entirely 
fair, certainly Job's friends lack theological creati¬ 
vity* Through all his philosophical gymnastics they 
sound the same note over and over again: what you sow, 
you reap* Their mistake is to demand that reality con¬ 
form to their theories: unfortunately. Job's experience 
plays hob with their neat categories* 

This observation helps to clarify the Inconsistency 
of Job's own reflections about God* He has experienced 
the goodness, order, and mercy of God, but he has also 
known God's displeasure* He is overwhelmed by the 
weight of his mortality, his helplessness before the Al¬ 
mighty—^and so Job is pitifully torn* He praises; he 
condemns* He adores; he fears* He desires above all 
else to be in God's presence; he desires above all else 
for God to leave him alone, to hide him in Sheol* He 
longs for the days when the goodness and power of God 
meshed with his experience, but those days are gone* 
Only confusion, anger, and frustration remain* 

Why does Job suffer? The four men who come to in¬ 
struct him offer a tidy solution to the riddle* Their 
familiar premise is that one experiences God's judgment 
in this life* With vehemence, Blldad asks: "Does God 
pervert justice, or does the Almighty pervert what is 
right? If your sons sinned against Him, then He deliv¬ 
ered them into the power of their transgression*" 
(8:3-4) This theme runs through all their speeches, 
even Ellhu's (cf* 4:7-8, 15:20f, 20:5-20)* An obvious 
implication of this is that Job must have sinned horri¬ 
bly; hence, he deserves the full fury of divine wrath* 


18 



Eliphaz asks; "Is not your wickedness great? Are not 
your iniquities without end?" (22:5) The counselors' 
repeated plea is that Job should repent, for then he 
will again enjoy the bounty of God's blessing, Zophar 
assures Job; "If you would direct your heart aright, and 
spread out your hand to Him ••• then Indeed, you could 
lift up your face without moral defect ••• and your life 
would be brighter than noonday." (11:13, 15, 17) 

There is a subtle flaw here. The sages, recalling 
God's might, repeatedly sound the theme of the insigni¬ 
ficance of man: "Dominion and awe belong to Him.... If 
even the moon has no brightness and the stars are not 
pure in His sight, how much less man, that maggot, and 
the son of man, that worm!" (25:2, 5-6) God reigns in 
glory and fearsome power—^and man is nothing. But all 
their elegantly woven poetry on the mystery and majesty 
of God seems strangely inconsistent with their confident 
assertion of the predictability of His actions; their 
speech belies a desire to hold Him to conformity with 
their neat categories: 

For Job's friends the contemplation cf God's all- 
might produoed merely a confortlrg coiwlctlon that 
it provided that Inmutability vdilch served as a 
firm fouEidatlon for their theories about life.... 

They wished to limit Him to that portion of His 
power and work that they mve able to gpasp.^ 

From the perspective of Job—and of anyone who has 
read the Prologue—the counselors' answers are inade¬ 
quate simply because they assume Job's guilt. The four 
men are unable to bring forward anything that might ac¬ 
count for Job's plight, and he is unwilling to settle 
for less than vindication by God and an answer to the 
question which plagues him. Why do the righteous suf¬ 
fer? Why does God allow the wicked to prosper? 

Before outlining the answer which the book of Job 
offers, it may be helpful to deal with Job's dilemma in 
the light of subsequent revelation. A quick perusal of 
Scripture certainly underscores the observation that 
sometimes suffering does indeed overtake people as the 
direct result of their evil deeds: this truism must not 
be rejected out of hand simply because it does not hap¬ 
pen to hold in every case. Throughout the Old Testament 
Yahweh reduces ungodly kingdoms to rubble and smites the 
wicked with plagues; in the New Testament, Ananias and 
Sapphira are punished for deceiving the church. 

At the same time, another strand of divine revela¬ 
tion emphasizes that God is glorified in the trials of 
His people. When Jesus and His disciples come upon a 
blind man (John 9), the twelve display the same logic 
pressed by Job's counselors: "Who sinned, lord, this man 
or his parents?" The disciples are as wide of the mark 
as are Job's friends; Christ answers, "It was not that 


19 



this man sinned» or his parents, but that the works of 
God might be manifest In him." 

A further theme In Scripture Is the therapeutic ef¬ 
fect of suffering. James writes: 

GotBlder It all joy, my brethren, vhen you encoun¬ 
ter various trials, knowLqg that the testing of 
your faith produces endurance. And let endurance 
have Its perfect result, that you may be perfect 
and complete. (James 1:^) 

The flame of adversity purifies; patience, wisdom, and 
genuine love are the fruit of trials. 

Further, Scripture substantiates the belief that, 
even If the present life seems unjust, ultimately God 
will right the balance. 

The Apocalypse of Saint John was written to encour¬ 
age the churdies. IL is an exhortation to stead¬ 
fastness, no matter what the price in blood might 
be. The visions of the Seer on Fatmos penetrate 
tie veil which hides the face of destiny. Ihe 
beast will be conquered and cast into the lake of 
brimstone; the ]!^w Jerusalem^ taklig the place of 
the Holy City so recently destroyed by Ebman 
armies, will be let down &<m God out of heaven. 

Jasper walls and fountains of Hviig water and no 
more tears will conpensate the price of blood and 
Iton.^ 

The Church finds consolation In Its knowledge that God's 
very nature demands that **the rightness of right will 
lead to well-being and the wrongness of wrong will lead 
to disaster,if not in this life, then assuredly in 
the next. 

In a very real sense, the problem of evil is often 
simply a corollary of the problem of free will. Pain we 
suffer at the hands of others must be endured as the 
"tribute we pay to other people's freedom.'*^ 

The most unexpected Insight Into human pain, 
though, comes with the realization of the healing poten¬ 
tial of suffering. When one person voluntarily shares 
the grief and pain of another, the deepest and most pro¬ 
found of God's miracles occurs: evil Is transmuted Into 
good. The Suffering Servant of Isaiah 53 goes to Uls 
death "as a sheep before his shearers Is dumb," and be¬ 
cause He voluntarily endures so much for those He loves, 
"God has highly exalted Him, and bestowed on Him the 
Name which Is above every name...." Both Christ and Job 
are Innocents who suffer for their righteousness. In 
the prologue to Job, God presents His servant to Satan 
as one who Is blameless and upright, and Satan responds 
by unleashing all the forces at his disposal In an at¬ 
tempt to draw Job Into sin. Matthew's Gospel relates 


20 



that at the baptism of Jesus, the Father makes a similar 
statement: "This is my Beloved Son, in whom 1 am well- 
pleased." Again, the Accuser wastes no time in subject¬ 
ing the blameless Servant to temptation aimed at foiling 
God's purposes. Further, both are ultimately vindicat¬ 
ed—Christ in his resurrection and ascension. Job in 
restored prosperity. In this sense. Job is a type of 
Christ. 

Yet what do these observations actually tell us? 
How do they help clarify the essential dilemma? A sum¬ 
mary of perspectives is in order. The Bible teaches 
that suffering can be: 1) a form of God's punishment; 2) 
a means of bringing glory to God; 3) a spur to moral 
growth; 4) eschatologleally justified; 5) the price of 
free will; 6) vicarious and healing. Such a parade of 
well-thought-out rationalization, though, remains inade¬ 
quate. In Anderson's words, "There is a vast area of 
human misery which is neither penal, nor remedial, nor 
redemptive. It is just plain meaningless."^ Why cannot 
humans mature through joy? Why must God be glorified in 
our defeat rather than in our triumph? Why does He not 
put down the oppressor now? In the experience of Job 
and of all suffering mortals, as in the atonement of 
Christ, in spite of the insights offered by Scripture, 
the fundamental mystery remains. 

Perhaps a reexamination of the story of Job will 
shed light on the problem. What is it that finally sa¬ 
tisfies Job? Amazingly, it is not his final vindica¬ 
tion; nor is it an abstract enumeration of reasons and 
divine purpose. God never even expresses sympathy for 
the trials Job has endured. Rather, Job responds with 
awe, adoration, and the retraction of his foolish words 
after a monologue in which God points out His wisdom and 
power in creation. This is really little more than the 
counselors and Job himself have offered in previous 
chapters, but with the crucial difference that here Job 
is confronted with the palpable reality of God rather 
than feeble human descriptions. It is in this presence 
—"But now, my eyes see Thee...."—that Job finds conso¬ 
lation. 

In the Cross of Christ we too encounter God, the 
incarnate Word who takes to Himself all the agony and 
suffering which disfigure His world. If He still offers 
no neat, logical solutions to the problem of pain. He 
utterly disarms our criticisms when He strips Himself 
and bears every blow His creatures feel. On the Cross, 
Jesus embraces a pain none of His children need ever en¬ 
dure—the agony of total separation from God. When Job 
cries, "My God! Why have you forsaken me?" God the 
Father condescends to assure him that, contrary to ap¬ 
pearances, he has not been abandoned. In Christ, God 
again condescends, so that His presence—that which 
quiets Job's doubts—might be always with His people. 

Ultimately, we can fathom but a little of God's 


21 



wotkings in history. Still, if pain and suffering re¬ 
main beyond our comprehension. Scripture’s perspectives 
nevertheless offer a measure of comfort and shed at 
least a little light on these matters. Further, we have 
the gracious promise of God that there remains a divine 
order, a grand schetae of things infinitely more glorious 
than our imaginings. Chesterton offers this observation 
on the divine speeches in Job: 

Withiut once relaxing the rigid inpenetrability of 
Jehovah In Uis deliberate declaration, [the author] 
has contrived to let fall^ here and there in the 
met^hors, in the parenthetical ima^ry, sudden and 
splenlid sog^tibiB that the secret of Gbd is a 
bright and not a sad one--s e mi-accidental sug^*- 
tions^ like light seen for an instant throu^ the 
cracks of a closed door.^ 


What remains of pain that can be neither understood nor 
endured in joyful anticipation is accounted for in 
Christ. Anderson, with profound Insight and reverence, 
summarizes: 


What Job loiged for blindly has actually happened. 
God Hiiiiself has Joined us in our hell of lonell- 
nesS, and acquired a new conpleteness through ^t 
He endured. All the 'meanirgs* of suffering cdn- 
vezge on Christ.... lhat the lohi Hha^f has em¬ 
braced and ebaorbed the tmdeseived consequences of 
all evil is tbe final answer to Job ard to all the 
Jobs of humanity. As an innocent ^fefer. Job is 
the coinpanion of Gbd.^ 


22 



Notes 


^ F.I. Anderson, Job (London: Tyndale Press, 1976), p. 65. 

2 G.K. Chesterton, "Man is Most Comforted by Paradoxes,” in The 
Dimensions of Job, ed. Nahum N. Glatzer (New York: Schocken Books, 
1969), p. 232. 

^ H.L. Ellison, From Tragedy to Triijnph (Grand Rapids: Eerdnans, 
1958), p. 117. 

^ Albion Roy King, The Problem of Evil (New York: Ronald Press, 
1952), p. 110. 

5 Anderson, p. 67. 

6 Ibid., p. 70. 

7 Ibid., p. 71. 

® Chesterton, p. 235. 

^ Anderson, p. 72. 



THE UTERART FUNCTION OF HARK 6:6W3 
AND ITS MESSAGE TO MARK'S CHURCH 
by Patrick H. Alexander 

Introduction 

A distinctive feature of Mark’s gospel is its focus 
upon Jesus' confrontation with both natural and superna¬ 
tural opposition as he advances to the Cross. Other 
Marcan features are carefully woven together to high¬ 
light this theme within the larger fabric of Mark's nar¬ 
rative. One such feature will be addressed in the fol¬ 
lowing pages. If Jesus is the central character of this 
Gospel, then the group of followers known as the Twelve 
may be described as secondary figures the record of 
whose actions is used, in part, to address specific in¬ 
terests of Mark. By means of an analysis of the liter¬ 
ary function of the mission of the Twelve (Mark 6:6b-13) 
within the larger narrative, insight will be afforded 
into Mark's message for an audience apparently under¬ 
going great persecution.^ 

The evaluation of the literary function of Mark 
6:6b-13 will rest upon a three-fold platform. First, 
the role of the apostle/disciple will be examined. Ear¬ 
ly in Mark's witness (l:16ff, and again in 3:13ff) these 
figures emerge and are designated as having a special 
function in the narrative; an understanding of their 
role is obviously fundamental to any discussion of a 
passage such as this whose focus rests upon them. 

A second study will examine the. contextual setting 
of 6':6b-13. Two aspects will be addressed: Jesus' re¬ 
jection by his own people (6:1^6a); and the Herodian in¬ 
terval, recalling the death of John the Baptist (6:14- 
29). Under the latter heading, two problems will be en¬ 
gaged which will offer tentative suggestions as to the 
function of that enigmatic passage.^ 

Last will come an analysis of the specifics of 
6;6b-13, Including the resolution of grammatical, sty¬ 
listic, syntactical, and terminological problems. Upon 
completion of the above, the findings will be integrated 
and evaluated in light of Mark's strong didactic thrust 
intended both to encourage his readers and to exhort 
them to positive action in the cause of the gospel. 

The Apostle/Dlsclple/Member of the IWelve^ 

An awareness of the role played by the disciples, 
and especially the Twelve (dcSdeKa ), is a necessary pre¬ 
requisite for the exegesis of this passage. Two issues 
must be considered: 1) the literary role and character¬ 
istics of the Twelve;^ 2) the anticipated effect of the 
disciples' model upon Mark's readers. 

Early in the gospel account (l:16ff) it is made 
clear that the demand of Jesus, Aeuxe OTriao) you, Kai 
TToirfawuyots yeveaTai aXieis avGpCirwv, loo^s toward future 


24 



9 / 


work, and, as suggested by the term oiTiao) ^ that this 
work will entail more than simply "following Jesus. 

R.P. Meye rightly observes that "Mark 1:17 is in fact to 
be linked to the appointment of the Twelve in 3:13-19 
and the sending of the Twelve on a mission in 6:7-13, 
30." Thus, the scheme of the gospel itself is intended 
to reinforce the point that these witnesses of the ac¬ 
tions of Jesus will themselj^es continue Jesus' ministry; 
they remain with him now (iva (iaiv yet* aUTOU, 3:14) only 
in order that they may be scattered abroad in time, re¬ 
producing on a wider scale what Jesus himself now does 
and proclaims (3:13-15). One point of the pericope is 
to confirm that the disciples indeed do what Jesus 
does.^ 


Not only must the mission of the TWelve be examined 
from the perspective of its narrative function, but 
Mark's depiction of the group must be assessed for its 
value as a paradigm intended for a struggling community 
of believers. H. Kee observes that the socio-economic 
demands placed upon disciples who respond to Jesus' sum¬ 
mons are noteworthy and even dramatic.^ Mark depicts 
the actions of those who decide to follow Jesus as radi-- 
cal. His account of the sudden and startling results of 
a response to the call of Jesus (1:19,20) certainly ap¬ 
pears to be an attempt to demonstrate the seriousness of 
a decision to follow the Lord. 

Citing M. Hengel, Kee argues that the experience of 
Jesus' disciples is not unlike that of Elisha, who in 
following Elijah (I Kings 19:16, 19, 21) is required to 
sever family and occupational ties. That the figure of 
Elijah is so often in Mark's narrative linked with John 
the Baptist underscores that the labor of John has es¬ 
chatological urgency. This same sense of imperative is 
assumed by the Twelve as heralds of the Last Days who 
prepare the way for Christ's journey to the Cross.® The 
account of the sending of the Twelve possibly alludes to 
the same parallel by relating the simple provisions 
taken by these disciples to the spartan lifestyle of 
John the Baptist (l:6ff). 

Even if our point be granted that the disciples are 
intended as models in the narrative and have the mandate 
to carry forward the works of Jesus by exercising au¬ 
thority and power, they are nevertheless not to be view¬ 
ed as supermen or heroes. On the contrary, as H. von 
Campenhausen states, "It is vital for a right under¬ 
standing of their character and calling to make it clear 
that they are by nature nothing more than weak, frail 
creatures, helpless and witless; in other words, simply 
'men'...."9 Mark records their confusion when they find 
that they are unable to perform works that they have 
seemingly done before (9:29). Their authority during 
Jesus' earthly ministry has been delegated for a speci¬ 
fic task and is not free to be used as they please. To 
present them as somehow "special," then, is to violate 


25 



Mark's intent to stress their common humanity with his 
persecuted audience. Mark's emphasis falls, not upon 
what they do, but upon whom they imitate. The organiza¬ 
tional breakdown of the group after the betrayal and ar¬ 
rest of Jesus underscores their total reliance upon him 
for power. 


General Contextual Concerns 

In considering the general context of 6:6b-13, 
three questions must be addressed: 1) Why does the send¬ 
ing of the IVelve come immediately after the rejection 
of Jesus in Galilee? 2) Why is the death of John the 
Baptist sandwiched between 6:13 and 6:30? 3) What func¬ 

tion does 6:6b-13 perform in its present position be¬ 
tween the rejection of Jesus and the death of John the 
Baptist? 

A« Jesus* Rejection hy His Own House (6:l-6a) 

It has not escaped notice that the relatives of 
Jesus play an antagonistic role in Mark's gospel. 
The disciples' own call has demanded familial conces¬ 
sions; Jesus too is depicted as in conflict with his 
family (3:31-35, 6:l-6a). *^sus' words, bs [Xap] ctv 
TToina^ TO^GeAnycx tou 0eou, ouxos aSeXcpos you Ka\ a6eX(J)n 
woi ynirip CCTTIU, reflect the radical model of discipleship 
which he holds out to the Twelve. It is not by accident 
that 6:6b-13 oomes on the heels of Jesus' rejection in 
Nazareth: Mark is about to reemphasize the demands 
placed upon the soldier of Jesus Christ—and the type of 
reception he can expect. In Mark's narrative, Jesus' 
family neither understands him nor believes in him. 
Their activity parallels that of his scribal opponents 
who think that Jesus has an unclean spirit (3:30): in 
the Beelzebul controversy ^(3:20ff), his relatives, 
convinced that^ he is insane (e^eoTn, 3:21), come to take 
him away (jcpaTncTax). Jesus' three-part prophetic proverb 
(6:4) finds its fulfillment in his hearers' response 
(6:1-3),and his rejection iv 'n-axpi6i symbolizes his 
rejection by the nation. This is further substantiated 
by the indication that Jesus, after 6:2, enters no 
synagogue: establishment Judaism's refusal to accept him 
has apparently removed it from the focus of his salvific 
ministry. Evidently the rejection of Jesus by his own 
house generates the impetus for the sending of the 
Twelve, ultimately pointing to the Gentile mission. 

B. The Heath of John the Baptist (6:14-29) 

1. The plot line 

The second contextual question concerns the enig¬ 
matic intercalation of 6:14-29. Two questions arise: 1) 
What is the relationship of 6:14-29 to the plot line of 
the narrative as a whole? 2) What is its contribution 
to Mark's goal in addressing the needs of his audience? 
Though definitive answers are not possible, some specu¬ 
lation is helpful. 

That the mission pericope (6:6b-13) must originally 


26 



have Included v. 30 as well seems unquestionable: v. 14 
is awkward as a transition. Despite the dlfflcultles» 
this writer assumes that Mark's reworking of the mater-* 
lal through the Insertion of vv. 14-29 was purposeful 
and that his intention here is consistent with the over¬ 
arching Interests of his Gospel. 

In V. 14, Herod Is not so concerned with the Twelve 
who are actually effecting the miracles and healings as 
with the one in whose name the works are apparently be¬ 
ing done. Herod's speculation follows the lines of the 
common gossip concerning Jesus. The prevailing assump¬ 
tion was that the power at work In Jesus was that of 
either John the Baptist, one of the prophets, or pos¬ 
sibly Elijah himself (cp. 6:14 with 8:28).^^ These re¬ 
marks concerning popular opinion as to Jesus' Identity 
should be viewed in light of the preceding material on 
Jesus' rejection: 

1. Clearly Jesus Is In no respect John the Baptist. 
The summary statement of 6:29 and the description 
of John the Baptist's execution have the ring of 
finality. The point that Herod Is mistaken about 
John seems to be the premise for the entire account 
(6:14). 

2. John the Baptist Is Indeed Elijah (In what capacity 

Is not certain); although this Is not explicitly 

stated until 9:29, Mark's readers have been alerted 
to his identity as early as chapter 1. 

3. Though Jesus does refer to himself as a prophet 
(6:4), whether or not Mark Intends to portray him 
as the prophet expected by the people is uncertain. 

In spite of the speculative nature of these observa¬ 

tions, they do underscore that the question of the Iden¬ 
tity of Jesus Is the coamon denonlnator here. Jesus' 
true Identity Is a major theme running through the Gos¬ 
pel of Mark; In fact, the turning point of the narrative 
is Peter's confession (8:27-30) that Jesus Is the 

Christ. 

2. 6:14-29 and Mark’s Audience 

Strikingly, in Mark's narrative Herod himself is 
not personally credited with John's death, just as Pi¬ 
late Is not directly responsible for the death of 

Jesus.Still, Herod, like Pilate, gives In to the 
pressure of others, although he finds nothing In John 
the Baptist worthy of death. In light of the theme of 
supernatural conflict so centr£LL to Mark, it seems like¬ 
ly that the same forces striving to destroy Jesus 

through the Jews (portrayed as under the Influence of 
Satan In 3:20-30) are here being portrayed as working 
through Herod, and especially Herodlas, to silence John 
the Baptist. The link between Herod and the Jewish op¬ 
position is found in 3:6, 8:15, and 12:13—it is the 
Herodlans who collaborate with the Pharisees in their 
plot to destroy Jesus. 

Mark's suggestion that supernatural powers are 


27 



striving against John the Baptist reflects that for him 
the kingdom of God is not a political enterprise, but on 
a cosmic plane; William Lane contributes a valuable ob¬ 
servation when he notes in his discussion of the Olivet 
Discourse, "Mark cautions his readers that the community 
is to find its authentic eschatological dimension, not 
in apocalyptic fervor, but in obedience to Jesus* call 
to crbssbearing and evangelism, in the confidence that 
this is the will of God which must be fulfilled before 
the parousia.'*^^ Mark’s audience is thus offered a ther¬ 
apeutic perspective on the persecution they are under¬ 
going. 

Verses 8-11 of chapter 6 are concerned not so much 
with the content of preaching as with instruction on 
preparation for mission; the results of the mission are 
then analyzed in terms of the effectiveness of God’s 
messengers over against the cosmic forces which have re¬ 
jected Jeaus and killed John the Baptist. Since the 
disciples' preaching is not based on the declaration of 
Jesus' identity (which they do not yet know), Mark is 
hot concerned to set forth what great feats the apostles 
have accomplished (6:30), but to emphasize their ability 
to repeat the actions of Jesus—which will one day in¬ 
clude crossbearing. 

Having examined the question of the Herodian inter¬ 
calation from the two perspectives of literary role and 
mar can concern, this study will turn to an examination 
of the specifics of 6:6b-13 which have contributed to 
the above understanding of the material. 

Specific Contextual Concerns 

This examination will have two foci: 1) the liter¬ 
ary function of 6:6b-13 in Mark's narrative; 2) the in¬ 
sight into marcan Interests gained through analysis of 
the grammar, style, and vocabulary of the passage. It 
will be demonstrated that 6:6b-13 represents both a 
literary bridge in the narrative of Jesus’ journey to 
the Cross and a paradigm on crossbearing under persecu¬ 
tion. 

After Jesus' rejection in Galilee (see note 12), he 
is not recorded as again entering a synagogue. As has 
been argued, this typifies the rejection of Jesus by the 
Jewish nation. Cradled between this rejection (6:1-6) 
and Herod's killing of John (6:14-29) rests our peri- 
cope. It has been argued as well that the supernatural 
powers that accomplish the rejection of Jesus at the 
hands of the Jews have already brought about the 
destruction of John by the Romans (i.e., Gentiles). 
Both Jerusalem and Rome are apparently at the disposal 
of these evil powers which always reject Jesus and his 
Church. As Jesus endured rejection at the hands of the 
Jews, so too Mark's audience can be assured that they 
will face rejection and persecution from (in?) Rome. 

Gould remarks that v. 6b belongs with the thought 


28 



of V. 7: the mission of the Twelve simply extends Jesus' 
ministry over a wider territory, since the works that 
they do are in imitation of his own works.The Twelve, 
then, have a role in helping Jesus reach his ultimate 
destination. Mark's use of TTpoaKaAeci) logically connotes 
more than a mere summons, but involves an invitation to 
participate and follow Jesus.Those called in 3:13 
are now to be sent (iva airoaTeXXr) ) to fulfill the role 
for which they have been selected. The term otTroaieXXo) » 
with its links to aTroaioXos » must be "loaded” for the 
marcan audience. Indeed, 6:30 already applies the post- 
r^esurrection term aTTpaToXoi to the Twelve. The play on 
\va otTToaTeXXri/cxTroaToXoi suggests strongly that the mis¬ 
sionary/evangelistic orientation of Marx's church is be¬ 
ing read back :^nto the history of its own formation. 20 
Normally ava 6\Jo (as in Luke 9:14) or Kara 6i)o 
would be the expected construction to describe the send¬ 
ing of the Twelve in pairs.21 Jeremias posits that 6uo 
6\jo may preserve an Aramaic tradition suggestive that 
traveling in pairs had the two-fold Intent of affording 
protection and complying with Old Testament legal pre¬ 
scriptions (Deuteronomy 17:6 and 19 : 15 ).22 Verses 6 and 
7 reflect the outworking of the call of the Twelve in 
3:13 and follow the wording of the earlier passage. 23 
The intent of these verses is to introduce the instruc¬ 
tion for the mission rather than to emphasize the send¬ 
ing itself; vv. 8-11 are devoted to instruction, with 
only V. 12 (and v. 30 later) reflecting on the results 
of the mission—and even then the report describes what 
has been accomplished in terms associated with Jesus' 
own work. \ > / i a. 9 ✓ 

The clause Kai 061600 aUTo'ts e^ouaiav tSv TrveuuaTwv 
T(i3V aKaGapTCJO reflects the purpose behind the mission: 
the Twelve are to continue to do what Jesus has done. 
In light of 6:l-6a's function as a turning point in the 
ministry of Jesus, it can be deduced that the disciples 
here assume his work of engaging the Adversary. 2^ 
Jesus' training prepares them for later mission (impor¬ 
tant to Mark) and functions as an Important step in 
Jesus' own journey to the Cross. 

Mark's careful framing of Jesus' instructions for 
missionaries (vv. 8-11) emphasizes his concern for those 
undertaking mission in his own time. Perhaps he intends 
to encourage' his readers by contrasting the paucity of 
supply expected by Jesus with the abundance of power 
Jesus makes available against the forces opposing the 
gospel. That Mark's emphasis falls upon the lack of 
provision is clear from the absence of any positive 
stipulations to counterbalance the negative prohibi¬ 
tions. There appears to be nothing of significance in 
the items enumerated themselves:26 the point is that the 
dependence of those sent out is to be upon God, who will 
provide through the hcjsp:^t^j.ty of others. 27 Mark's al¬ 
lowance of a staff ( W pot3<5ov yovov) may be intended 


29 



to underscore the difficulties to be expected in such an 
arduous endeavor. 

It is with verse 9 that some syntactical problems 
emerge. Though Mark’s use of &XXa is generally stylis¬ 
tically adversative,28 in 6:9 it seems difficult to read 
it adverslvely to the previous instructions regarding 
provision unless another tinderstanding of aav6aXiov is 
available. The ^ordinary term for sandal in the New 
Testament is 47To6riiJOt; only in Mark 6:9 and Acts 12:8 does 
the term aav6aXiov appear. The distinctive feature of 
aav6aXlov is its function as protective footwear.29 xhe 
permission, indeed command ( TrapriTYei^^ev,v. 8), to wear 
sandals again reflects the difficulty of the mission. 
A.XXa functions to clarify that their task will require 
stamina: they are not leaving provisions^ behind only to 
have them supplied miraculously. *AXXa resolves any 
questions that may remain as to the character of the 
mission. ^ 

H. Kee concludes that Kai eXeyev a\)TO\s (v. 10) is 
frequently employed by Mark to introduce sayings mater¬ 
ial. Thus, here the very words of Jesus give instruc¬ 
tion on the proper response to inevitable confronta¬ 
tion. Mark thus places Jesus at the obligation of his 
own instruction: since in the narrative Jesus has been 
rejected in his own house, his own response must be con¬ 
sistent with his words in vv. 10 and 11. Jdis own people 
have rejected him, so he must GKSiGev , As it 

happens, this action is probably reflected in the fact 
that Jesus is not recorded as again entering a syna¬ 
gogue. His dealings with the Jews from this time are 
mainly on a controversial level. Their lack of recepti¬ 
vity is congruent with Mark’s stress on the difficulty 
and hardship disciples should expect. To enhance the 
warning/thijeat ( ^KTTop^oyevoi^ there follows^the j.mpera- 
tive CKTiva^aTG tov yow xov UTroKotTco tcjv 7To6(ji)V uySv eis 
yapTUpiov aUTOis.31 

The only^ indication of the content of the Twelve’s 
preaching (l:Knpu?av ) is in verse 12,/va yexavowaiv 
This is probably in apposition to eKypu^av . Like John 
the Baptist (1:15), the disciples preach repentance in 
preparation for Messiah. 32 Their role as participants 
in heralding Jesus’ arrival means that they engage the 
same powers that Jesus battles on his way to the Cross. 
They press the mission and extend its geographical and 
ethnic expanse, in harmony with Mark’s concern to show 
the results which flow from Jesus’ rejection by his own 
people. 

Since it has already been argued that the disciples 
are to repeat the works of Jesus, especially by casting 
out demons, preaching, and teaching ( 6 : 30 ),33^ comraen^t 
upon verse 13 will be Restricted to TiXei(|)ov fXaiw^TToXXous 
otppcaaTous 34 Koti eSepaTreuov, First, ttoXXous 

appcSaTOUs is the object of both verbs. The disciples 
healed many sick as opposed to the few sick (oXiyois 


30 



cxppaxJTOtcr) whom Jesus Is credited as healiqg in Galilee 
(e0epa7reuaev , 6:5). This C 9 ntrast simply underscores 
the extension of Jesus* e^ouaia in the Twelve. ATnaxia 
(6:6a) on the part of his own people does not thwart the 
ongoing mission of Jesus in his agents: he must still 
"give his life a^ ransom for^ many." (10:45) 

The phrase eXaiw is more problematic. Cran- 

field notes that such references to oil probably involve 
an element of symbolism.^5 Still, it must be noted that 
oil has medicinal properties as well. The only other 
New Testament reference to anointing the sick with oil 
for healing purposes occurs in James 5:14, where is con¬ 
joined the phrase ev Tw ovdyaxi too KUpiou ; thus, Taylor 
may be correct in suggesting that Mark is "following an 
old tradition concerning a symbolical use of oil by the 
disciples before the practice arose of healing in the 
name of Jesus." 

R.P. Meye makes the interesting point that Mark*s 
account "binds the mission of the Twelve to the feeding 
of the multitude.When the disciples report to Jesus 
(6:30), they encounter the same difficulties that he has 
experienced: confronting the pressing crowds, they re¬ 
tire to epriyov tottov (6:30), nor do they have opportun¬ 
ity to eat (6:31; cp. Jesus, 3:20). Furthernwre^, ^^sus* 
imperative to the disciples (6:37), Acre aUTOis tJye^s 
(l)aYelv, reflects that Jesus continues to expect 
the disciples to do as he does.38 Again, this high¬ 

lights Mark's concern not simply to proclaim Jesus, but 
to minister to the needs of his audience. Mark's read¬ 
ers can take heart from the disciples' model as they 
persevere in works of faith in spite of opposition. 

Summary 

The perlcope 6:6b-13 can be viewed from two per¬ 
spectives. In one, Mark's narrative focuses on the cos¬ 
mic struggle between Jesus and the forces of darkness. 
The pericope then serves as a bridge linking Jesus' re¬ 
jection by organized Judaism to his turn to the multi¬ 
tudes—and ultimately to the Gentiles—through his dis¬ 
ciples. In the other, Mark's persecuted readers are of¬ 
fered the example of the apostles as encouragement to 
perseverance in the midst of trial. Persecution and 
hardship, both social and economic, are to be expected 
by those who follow Jesus—for, after all, the servants 
are not greater in this regard than their Master—but 
they have been given the authority and power of Christ 
himself with which to overcome. 


31 



Notes 

1 Ralph Martin, in Mark; Evangelist and Theologian (Grand Rapids: 
Zondervan, 1972), pp. 51-79, esp. p.61, seems confident, though not 
positive, that Mark's setting is that of the Neronian persecution; 
Donald Guthriej in New Testament Introduction (Downers Grove, Illinois; 
InterVaraity Press, 1970), pp. 53-89, esp. p. 62, does not feel that 
the evidence cited (8;34; 8;38; 10;38; 13:9-13) is necessarily related 
to the Neronian persecution; regardless of a specified dating of the 
Gospel, a persecuted audience seems to be in its background. 

2 Since Mark is considered by most scholars to be one of the pri¬ 
mary sources for Matthew and Luke, talk of Mark's own adaptation of 
sources becomes highly speculative. For an easy-to-follow discussion 
of source analysis centering on this passage, see S. Freyne, The 
Twelve; Disciples and Apostles. A Study in the Theology of the First 
Three Gospels (London; Sheed and Ward, 1968). Throughout this article, 
Mark will be viewed as a literary unit (16:9-20 is not assumed to be 
part of the original). 

^ The terms apostle, disciple, and member of the Twelve will be 
used interchangeably, unless a specific distinction is being drawn; see 
R.P. Meye's discussion in Jesus and the Twelve (Grand Rapids; Eerdmans, 
1968), p. 113ff; see also H. von Campenhausen, Ecclesiastical Authority 
and Spiritual Power in the Church of the First Three Centuries , trans. 
by J. Baker (Stanford, California: Stanford University Press, 1969), 
pp. 12-29. 

^ Campenhausen, Ecclesiastical Authority , p. 15ff; Joachim Jere- 
mias. New Testament Theology; The Proclamation of Jesus (New York; 
Charles Scribner's Sons, 1971), pp. 232ff, gives a brief account of the 
probable OT background for^the choosing of the Twelve. For a full dis¬ 
cussion of the term aTroCToXos , including the dimension of the 
apostle as ^ t ^ > see Theological Dictionary of the New 

Testament , s.v. AirpaTOXos »by Rengstorf. 

5 Theological Dictionary of the New Testament , s.v. OTTiao), 
by Seesman. 

6 Meye, Jesus and the Twelve , pp. 106-109; some who make the same 
point include Jeremias (in New Testament Theology ), Cranfield (in The 
Gospel According to Saint Mark (Cambridge; Cambridge University Press, 
1963)), J. Coutts (in "The Authority of Jesus and the Twelve," Journal 
of Theological Studies 8 (1957):111-118), and H. Kee (in Community of 
the New Age (Philadelphia; Westminster, 1977)). 

7 Kee, Community , p. 87; this theme is worked out elsewhere in 
the Gospel—cf. Mark 10:28-31. 

8 Ibid., p. 89, n. 49, citing M. Hengel, "Nachfolge und Charisma," 
" BZNW 34 (1968); Kee also elucidates certain obvious parallels between 

John the Baptist and Elijah in Mark's narrative (cf. II Kings 1:8 on 
Elijah's dress and food), as veil as noting cultural analogies with 
itinerant Cynic-Stoic preachers and the Essenes in Mark's portrayal of 
the apostles; see also Meye, Jesus and the Twelve , p. 100. 

^ Campenhausen, Ecclesiastical Authority , p. 26 

Space restricts the investigation of the surrounding material; 
highlights only will be addressed. 

J.D. Crossan, "Mark and the Relatives of Jesus," New Testament 
Studies 15 (1973);81-113; in dealing with redactional activity in 


32 





Mark> Crossan concludes that Jesus' relatives and even his disciples 
are cast as the "villains" of the story. 

Duplications of vocabulary between vv. 1-3 and 4-6 are espec¬ 
ially striking in the Greek, and clear enough even in most English 
translations. 

Interestingly, two of the controversy stories are either intro¬ 
duced by or summarized with a statement of Jesus' activity in Galilee 
(1:28, 39). 

See Kee, Community , p. 89f; but see Holt H. Grahan, "The Gospel 
According to St. Mark: Mystery and Ambiguity,” Anglican Theological 
Review , supplemental series 7 (1976): 43-45, who is not convinced that 
John is Elijah. 

Josephus, Antiguities , xviii. 116, 117, records the death of 
John the Baptist and places all the blame upon Herod; he states that 
the Jews later attributed Herod's military demise to divine judgment 
for the slaying of John. 

William Lane, Mark , New International Commentary on the New 
Testament, ed. by F.F. Bruce (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1974), p. 447. 

Bruce Metzger, A Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament 
(London: United Bible Societies, 1971), pp. 88, 89, has no discussion 
on any of the verses in the pericope; the textual variants listed in 
Nestle-Aland, Novum Testamentum Greece , 26th ed., seem to be either 
transcriptional errors or obvious insertions. 

E.P. Gould, The Gospel According to St. Mark , International 
Critical Commentary (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1896), p. 106. 

Cp. Mark 3s13, 3:23, 6:7, 7:14, 8:1, 8:34, 10:42, 12:43, 
15:44. Only 15:44 is on the lips of anyone other than Jesus. 

20 Jeremias, New Testament Theology , p. 232, remarks on the "com¬ 
plete absence of christology." 

21 F. Blass and A. DeBrunner, A Greek Grammar of the New Testament 
and other Early Christian Literature , trans. by R. Funk (Chicago: 
Chicago University Press, 1961), p. 130. 

22 Jeremias, New Testament Theology , p. 235. 

2^ Again, the parallels are obvious in the Greek and clear enough 
in an English translation. 

Obviously Jesus' bestowal on them of e^OUaia was not 

permanent, for they are later unable to repeat these actions (9:29). 

25 Kee, Community , p. 104. 

C.E.B. Cranfield, Gospel According to St. Mark , cites T.W. Man- 
son and his appeal to M. Ber , ix. 5—"He may not enter into the Temple 
Mount with his staff or his sandal or his wallet." Jeremias cites the 
same, adding "or with dust on his feet," in Jerusalem in the Time of 
Jesus (Philadelphia: Fortress, n.d.), p. 40. Though the similarity is 
striking, Mark does not appear to be arguing for the sacredness of the 
task of mission. 

27 Jeremias, Jerusalem , p. 60, notes that fellow-members of reli¬ 
gious communities were often lodged by their friends; Alfred Edersheim, 
in In the Pays of Christ (New York: Fleming H. Revell, n.d.), pp. 42- 
58, notes the admirability of hospitality and cites the Talmud ( Shab 
127a) as evidence that such was viewed as meritorious service worthy of 
reward. 

28 For example, see 1:44, 45; 2:17, 22; 3:26, 27, 29; interesting¬ 
ly, aXXa is usually on the lips of Jesus and is not a 

conjunction regularly used by Mark. 


33 



Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible , s.v. "sandal,” by J.M. 
Meyers; cf. The Vocabulary of the Greek Testament , eds. Moulton and 
Milligan, in loc .; on the syntax of. 6710606 eiJeV 0 Us aav 6 aXia 
see Cranfield, Mark , p. 199. The infinitive, says Cranfield, has to be 
understood; he suggests iropeUeaGai. 

Kee, CoiMiiuhity. p. 51, cites: 2:27; 3:23;A:2, 22, 21 , 24; 6:4, 
lOt 7:9, 14: 8:21; 9:1, 31; 11:17; KOI eXeyeV aUTots also 

points beck to 6 : 6 b ( 6 l 6 aaKa)V ) which functions to denote Jesus' 
words in vv. 8-11 as teaching which Mark's audience would have 
interpreted as for their own group. 

On the background of this phrase, see Tohoroth 4:5 (Oanby, 
Mishnah); cf. Strack-Billerbeck, Kommentar Zum Neuen Testamentum , 
1:571: cf. also Ante-Nicene Fathers (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1978) 
8:244 ( The Clementine Homilies , xxx, "The Apostolic Salutation"), 
"... but if any of you will not receive it then we shake off for a 
testimony the road dust off our feet...."; cf. also Acts 13:51, Paul's 
own actions against Pisidian Antioch; Acts 18:6 (thus Kee, Community , 
p. 238) may also be a record of the custom; see G.B. Caird, "Uncomfort¬ 
able Words II, 'Shake off the Dust from Your Feet' (Mark 6:11)," Expos¬ 
itory Times 81 (l969):40-43; the saying in this context functions as a 
parable in that it reveals the true character of the mission «/iile at 
the same time it judges those who fail to respond. 

The term yexavoeo) appears in 1:15, in connection with John 
the Baptist, and in 6:12; the noun yexaVOia occurs only at 1:4, 
again in relation to the preaching of John the Baptist. 

Meye, in Jesus and the Twelve , has perhaps one of the most co¬ 
gent treatments of this. 

The only occurrences of this term in Mark are at 6:5 and 6:13; 
it is used only four times in the entire New Testament. 

^5 Cranfield, Mark , p. 201; Interpreter's Dictionary of the Bible , 
s.v. "oil," by Ross. 

Vincent Taylor, The Gospel According to St. Mark (London: 
Macmillan, 1952), p. 306. 

Meye, Jesus and the Twelve , p. 111. 

Coutts, "Authority," p. 113. 


34 



"HE WILL SAVE HIS SOUL FKCM DEATH" 

ZQZQ AWD KAATIIT^ IN JAMES 5:20 
by Rick Ray 

James 5:19-20 has long been problematic for New Testa¬ 
ment commentators. Questions have centered on the ref- 
erent(s) of James’s promises here. Whose soul is to be 
saved? Whose sins are to be covered? Three major lines 
of interpretation have emerged: 1) both promises refer 
to the sinner (his soul will be saved and his sins are 
covered);^ 2) both promises refer to the converter (by 
restoring the sinner, the converter ensures that his own 
soul will be saved and his own sins covered);^ 3) the 
promises are divided between the two (the sinner's soul 
is saved and the converter's sins are covered).^ The 
purpose of this article will be to consider which of 
these three lines of interpretation is most plausible in 
light of the overall thrust of the epistle. 

In order to understand the identity of the referent 
in 5:20, one must first ascertain the literary genre of 
James: is it a diatribe,^ a homily or collection of 
moral maxims,^ paraenetic literature,^ or an epistle?^ 
The majority of contemporary commentators have followed 
Dlbelius in classifying James as a form of paraenesis, 
"a text which strings together admonitions of general 
ethical content ... ordinarily addressed ... to a speci¬ 
fic (though perhaps fictional) audience.”® According to 
Dlbelius, the book demonstrates certain features common 
to the genre: a pervasive eclecticism of ideasa lack 
of continuity of thoughtand the absence of a single 
framework into which all the ethical admonitions can be 
fit.^^ The net result of Dlbelius's position is to dis¬ 
solve, or at least to call into question, any relation¬ 
ship that might exist between 5:19-20 and the letter as 
a whole. Such a dissolution would mean that any resolu¬ 
tion of the questions noted above concerning the refer¬ 
ent (s) of 5:20 would have to be made solely on the basis 
of a consideration of the verse itself. 

Dlbelius's position, however, has been challenged 
by F.0. Francis, who shows that James conforms to an¬ 
cient epistolary patterns and therefore can be assumed 
to possess internal integrity among its various parts. 
Francis argues that the epistolary status of James be¬ 
comes apparent when its structure is examined in light 
of the forms common to Hellenistic letters.The evi¬ 
dence that Francis adduces for his reassessment is 
threefold. First, James 1:1-27 evidences a "double 
opening statement" in which there is a presentation and 
representation of the major thematic concerns ' to be 
dealt with in the letter proper.More specifically, 
the salutation opens with the standard greeting and then 
develops a thematic statement in 1:2-11 (trial, wisdom, 
rich/poor) which is repeated in modified form in 1:12-25 
(testing, speech, doers of the word) and recapitulated 


35 



in 1;26-27. Second, the author’s development of these 

three themes in the body of the work is in reverse order 
(faith and works, wisdom, judgment). Third, James con¬ 
cludes in an epistolary fashion: the final paragraphs 
begin with an eschatological introduction (5:7-11), open 
into a thematic reprise (5:12-20), and terminate ^the 
letter with a recognizable epistolary closure (Trpo tov- 
Tcav) followed by a health wish, an oath formula, and a 
prayer.in light of his research, Francis concludes 
that "James ... may be understood as an epistle from 
start to finish, a secondary epistle in form and in lit¬ 
erary treatment of the subject matter. 

This conclusion has immediate implications for our 
analysis of the referent(s) in 5:20. First, as an 
epistle, the work possesses internal integrity: our 
verse, therefore, is not to be interpreted in isolation 
from its context. Consequently, 5:20*s immediate con¬ 
text as an element in the epistolary conclusion will 
have great implications for its analysis. Finally, the 
conclusion that James is indeed an epistle means that 
redactional analysis may offer new insight into its his¬ 
torical context, thus shedding further light on the 
sense of 5:19-20.^^ 

An examination of the epistle to this end reveals 
that, while James is concerned with various themes, 
among them the wisdom of right speaking and the dichot¬ 
omy between rich and poor, these are subordinated to a 
governing motif of "trial" (1:2, 12, 27; 2:5-7; 5:4,6). 
The trials in view are the result of deliberate oppres¬ 
sion by the rich (2:6-7; 5:1-6). The community is di¬ 
vided over how to deal with the issue: it lacks wisdom 
(1:5; 3:13-16), and faces the real possibility of decep¬ 
tion (1:16, 22). 

The epistle concludes (5:19-20) with an admonition 
to the community to bring back those who have wandered 
from the truth. In v. 20, the community is reminded 
of a former teaching in this regard the one among 
them (importing the Implied uyiv of 5:19) who turns a 
sinner from the error of his ways saves a soul from 
death and covers a multitude of sins.^O The question of 
the referent(s) of these verbs then arises. Whose soul 
is saved? Whose sins are covered? How is this ambigu¬ 
ity to be resolved? ^ ^ 

Firs^ the conjjjinlng of aJaci ipuxnv aUTou and 
KaXuipei 7rXr|0os omcxpticjv would seem to indicate that 
both verbs must refer to the same person. This rules 
out any position which makes one verb apply to the sin¬ 
ner and one to the converter. 

Second, the fact that the reference to the covering 
of ayapTicjv , sins, is in such close proxj.mity ^to the 
reference to saving ayapxwXov gk TiXavris o6ou otWou , a 
sinner from the error of his ways, argues that the same 
individual, the ayapxwXd^s , is the recipient of both sal¬ 
vation and covering. 


36 



Third, if it is argued that the converter is the 
referent of acoaei ij/ux^v dtUTOU , then by analogy the el¬ 
ders who offer the prayer of faith (5:14-15) should be 
taken as referents of aofcrei xov Kayvovxa ; but since it 
is clear that it is the Lord who heals the sick in 5:15, 
merely using the elders as means to this end, by analogy 
the converter of 5:20 is described as God's agent in the 
restoration of the sinner, whose soul is thereby saved. 

Fourth, to take 5:20 as a statement that either 
party—sinner ^ converter—can save himself and cover 
his own sin by means of his works is to bring it into 
needless conflict with 1:21, TOV 6:vi<l)UTOV Xdyov 

Tov 6uvdyevov awaai xas ipvx^s uyaSv , "receive with meek¬ 
ness the implanted word, which is able to save your 
souls,” in violation of the internal cohesion which is a 
corollary of James's epistolary nature. 

Finally, in light of the numerous parallels that 
have been exhibited between James's thought and that of 
the synoptic Gospels,it would be more than a little 
strange if one so familiar with the evangel should sud¬ 
denly introduce in this coda a works-salvation schema. 
Although no direct literary dependence can be demon¬ 
strated, James's charge in 5:19-20 that community mem¬ 
bers are to go out and bring back wandering ones, there¬ 
by saving these sinners' souls and covering their sins, 
seems to be but a thematic reiteration of Jesus' final 
words in the parable of the lost sheep: "It is not the 
Father's will that any of these little ones should be 
lost." (Matthew 13:10-14) 



37 



Notes 


^ Thus Robert G, Bratcher, "Exegetical Themes in James 5-5,” Re¬ 
view and Expositor 66 (Fall 1969):413j D. Edmond Hiebert, The Epistle 
of James; Tests of a Living Faith (Chicago: Moody, 1979), p. 337; Peter 
Davids, Commentary on James , New International Greek Testament Commen¬ 
tary (Grand Rapids: Cerdmans, 1982), p. 201; Joseph B. Mayor, The 
Epistle .of Saint James (1892; reprint ed., Minneapolis, Minnesota: 
Klock and Kiock, 1977), p. 186, albeit with strong reservations. 

^ Thus Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible , 1962 ed., s.v. 
"James," by A.E. Barnett; Mayor (see n. 1 above) thinks that this is 
the vi^ of James. 

5 Thus James Adamson, The Epistle of James , New International Com¬ 
mentary on the New Testament, ed. by F.F, Bruce (Grand Rapids: Eerd- 
mans, 1976), p. 203; Martin Dibelius, A Commentary on the Epistle of 
James , ed. by Heinrich Greeven, trans. by M.A. Williams, Hermeneia Com¬ 
mentaries (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1976), p. 259; Sophie Laws, The 
Epistle of James , Harper’s New Testament Commentaries (San Francisco: 
Harper and Row, 1980), p. 239; C. Leslie Mitton. The Epistle of James 
(London: Marshall, Morgan and Scott, 1966), p. 216; James H. Ropes, A 
Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Epistle of Saint James , In¬ 
ternational Critical Commentary (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 
1916), p. 315. 

^ Thus Ropes, p. lOff; cf. also Barnett, p. 794. 

5 Thus William G. Doty, Letters in Primitive Christianity (Phila¬ 
delphia: Fortress, 1973), p. 70; International Standard Bible Encyclo¬ 
pedia, revised ed., s.v. ’’James,” by W.W. Wessel. 

^ Thus Dibelius, p. 3; Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible , sup¬ 
plementary vol., S.v. ’’James,” by R.B. Ward; J.B. Polhill, "Life Situa¬ 
tion Of James,” Review and Expositor 66 (Fall 1969):371ff. 

^ Thus Fred 0. Francis, ’’Form and Function of the Opening and 
Closing Paragraphs of James and I John," Zeitschrift fur die Neutesta- 
mentliche Wissenschaft 61 (1970):110-126; Davids, p. 22ff. 

^Dibelius, p. 3. 

^ Ibid., p. 5. 

Ibid. 

Ibid., p. 11. 

1^ Note that in the remainder of this article I do not adhere to 
Adolph Deissman's rigid distinctions between ’letter’ and ’epistle,’ 
outlined in his Light from the Ancient East: The New Testament Illus- 
trated by Recently Discovered Texts of the Graeco-Roman World , trans. 
by L.R.M. Strachan (New York: Hodder and Stoughton, 1910); rather, I 
use the terms interchangeably. 

1^ For examples of Hellenistic epistolary form, see Doty and T.F. 
Mullins, ’’Formulas in New Testament Epistolography," Journal of Bibli¬ 
cal Literature 91 (1972):380-390; cf. also F.J. Exler, The Form of the 
Ancient Greek Letter in the Epistolary Papyri, 3rd Century B.C. - 3rd 
Century A.D.; A Study of Greek Epistology (1923; reprint ed., Chicago: 
Ares, 1976). Recently, J.N. Sevenster, Do You Know Greek? How Much 
Greek Could the First Century Jewish Christians Have Known? , trans. by 
J. deBruin (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1968), pp. 4-21, and J.A. Fitzmyer, 
"Notes on Aramaic Epistolography,” Journal of Biblical Literature 93 
(1974):201-225, have both pointed up some remarkable parallels in ex¬ 
tant Aramaic letters. 


38 









Francis, p. 11f; examples of double openings are to be found in 
Josephus, Antiquities 8, 50-54, Eusebius, Praeparatio Evangelium 9, 
33ff, 1 Maccabees 10:25-45, and Philemon 4-7. ^ ^ 

Francis, p. 124f; Exler gives examples of TTpo TTaVTCOV as 
final phrase on p. 114 (see esp. Papyrus Oxyrhinchus II: 294 and Papy¬ 
rus Oxyrhinchus VII:1154 (256)), and examples of oath formulas on pp. 
127-132, as well as an illuminating discussion of closing foirnulas on 
pp. 69-77, in which he notes that an examination of 655 letters reveals 
216 endings without any salutation, as in James. 

Francis, p. 126; Mullins, p. 387, reinforces Francis’s findings 
by noting that "the use of one form tends to precipitate the use of 
others with it," so that the usage of an oath formula and a health wish 
with it would not be abnormal. 

It should be noted that Davids is the first to attempt to write 
a full-fledged commentary along the lines suggested by Francis. 

The metaphorical use of the TrXavaci) word-group as meaning 
"to err" is well-attested in Biblical and Intertestanental literature- 
-cf, in LXX, Deuteronomy 11:28; Proverbs 21:16; Isaiah 9:15; Jeremiah 
23:17; Ezekiel 33:10; cf., in apocalyptic literature, Testanent of 
Judah 14:1; 19:4; 23:1; Testament of Levi 3:3; 16:1; cf., in New Testa¬ 
ment, Matthew 18:12-13; Mark 12:24; 13:5-6; Romans 1:27. 

The author rejects YlVOXJKexa) OTl as found in Nestle-Aland 
26 th ed.^and UBS^^3rd ed., in spite of its strong attestation, in favor 
of YlVWQKETe OTl , on internal grounds: although Metzger, in his 
Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament (London: United Bible 
Societies, 1971), p. 685, favors on the ground that it 

is the more difficult reading, the cohesion of the conclusion appears 
to demand the amelioration ^th v. 19 that YlVCOCTKeTe supplies. 

The reading QCUTOU EK 0avaTOU is to be preferred as beat 
explaining the variants. 

Davids (p. 47f) and Mayor (pp. Ixxxv-lxxxviii) enumerate at 
least 36 such parallels. 


39 




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ARNUBIUS OF SICCA: A KEKVALOAIlOja OF HIS APOLOGETIC 
By Scott Sunquist 

Few early Christian writers have drawn such savage 
reviews from recent historians as has Arnoblus of Sic¬ 
ca. Arnoblus was ”... of only moderate talent, defi¬ 
cient In depth, rhetorical and argumentative, rather 
speculative, and above all, essentially a stylist.**^ 
"It Is Interesting to observe what this old man and Im¬ 
poverished apologist understood of Christianity, and how 
he mingled adventitious Ideas without troubling himself 
over their Incongruities and without considering that 
his Christian readers might be offended."^ "Arnoblus, 
Indeed, Is lacking In delicacy, and some of the stories 
he repeats are so revolting, that they are scarcely 
found In ancient literature...."^ If that doesn't whet 
our appetite for this Latin Father, we need only be re¬ 
minded that Arnoblus was" ... a Christian who knew noth¬ 
ing of scripture, or made very little use of It; who 
misunderstood some of the leading Ideas of Christianity, 
and I will add, formally proscribed all exterior forms 
of worship, was In fact, a very strange Christian."^ 

Not all reviewers of Arnoblus have given such vis¬ 
ceral responses. Dr. George McCracken, in the introduc¬ 
tion to his translation of Arnoblus's Against the Na¬ 
tions, is more balanced: "... [T]he treatise [ Against 
the Nations ] has much value for us today.... [IJt [isT 
a mine of great richness for out knowledge of the reli¬ 
gion which Christianity supplanted in the 4th century. 
This is indeed true: books 3-7 contain a sustained at¬ 
tack on specific beliefs (mythologies) and practices of 
contemporary Pagan worship. But, more than this, Arno- 
bius's polemic in Against the Nations represents a tour 
de force In apologetic methodology. If read as an ad 
hoc apologetic addressing particular stumbling blocks to 
Christian faith, this treatise Is seen as accurate In 
its identification of the Issues and thorough in its 
response. To defend and Illustrate this thesis, we will 
consider the one point on v^ich Arnoblus has received 
the most criticism, his view of the soul.^ First, how¬ 
ever, some background material Is necessary. 

Arnoblus's home. Sicca, a city 30 miles southwest 
of Carthage in the Roman province of Africa, was a cen¬ 
ter for the Astarte-Venus cult.^ The city thus attrac¬ 
ted "worshippers" who indulged in open fornication in 
the temple, often in hopes that the goddess would in 
turn provide a good marriage.® This type of religious 
understanding, though losing Its hold on philosophers, 
was still a dominant force in the lives of the general 
population. Arnoblus was no exception. He tells us In 
Against the Nations , Book I, ch. 39, 

Recently, 0 blindness, I worshipped images dra«i 

from fimaces, gods fashlcued on anvils and with 


41 



hamiers, elephants' bones, paintii^, ribbons on 
trees boaiy vzLth age* v>Jhenever ny g^e fell ipon 
an anointed stone daUbed with olive oil, I w)id.d, 
as if there ^iere sons pain in it, shew great re¬ 
spect to it; I v«>uld speak to it and ask blessiq^ 
of it tboqg^ it ^s a block without feelix^."^ 

Arnoblus's conversion from this life of Paganism 
occurred late in his career as a rhetorician, most like¬ 
ly during his 60th year.Jerome (Chronicon 326 A.D.) 
tells us that Arnobius was known as an eloquent and per¬ 
sistent enemy of the faith before his conversion. It 
was likely because of his reputation that the local bi¬ 
shop demanded some sort of gesture by which Arnobius 
could prove his new loyalty. Against the Nations was 
that proof, and with its publication the author was bap¬ 
tized into the Christian faith. 

As an apologetic. Against the Nations is striking 
both for its points of similarity to other early Chris¬ 
tian apologeticand for its innovations. It is most 
similar in the complaints it addresses. In Book One, 
for example, the following criticisms of Christianity 
are discussed: 

1. It is because of the spread of Christianity and 
the neglect of the Pagan gods that the world 
has suffered so many natural catastrophes and 
wars of late. (I. 1-25) 

2. Christ was merely a man raised to the status of 
god because of his miracles and teachings; 
therefore we should not neglect the worship of 
other gods. (I. 34-57) 

3. Christianity is not a true philosophy, because 
its adherents are not noble philosophers, but 
common, unlearned men. (I. 58-59). 

In Books Three to Seven we see, not a point-by-point de¬ 
fense of the Christian religion, but an all-out attack 
on pag^ism. In a manner similar to, though less metho¬ 
dical than, that of Eusebius in his Preparation for the 
Gospel , Arnobius points out inconsistencies in the myth¬ 
ologies, pursues Pagan beliefs to their logical conclu¬ 
sions, and exposes the immorality involved in the wor¬ 
ship of their "divinities. ” For all of this there is 
abundant precedent in the writings of other Fathers. 

Book Two of Against the Nations , however, is in 
large part unique in early Christian literature.It 
is here (chapters 13-53) that Arnobius discusses, not in 
abstraction but as an apologetic device, the nature of 
the soul. Arnobius feels that a right understanding of 
the soul is necessary for belief in the true God.^^ In 


42 





an effort to understand why this teaching is central in 
Arnobius’s apologetic, we will first hear the rhetori¬ 
cian in his own words and then analyze the currents of 
thought at the beginning of the fourth century. Finally 
we will ask whether Arnobius is only parroting popular 
beliefs of the time, or if he is indeed anticipating 
apologetic trends in the fourth century Church. 

Arnobius broaches his discussion of the soul in the 
context of a defense of the authority of Christ. He be¬ 
gins: '*1 should like to have a little talk with all 

those who hate the name of Christ, digressing for a mo¬ 
ment from that defense originally set up.” (II.1) After 
defending the reliability of Christ’s teachings, Arno¬ 
bius then asserts that the works He performed validate 
His words. Having argued that Christ's teachings are 
sound and supported by divine acts (II.11), Arnobius 
brings up what seems to be the real stumbling block to 
belief. 

VIhat does your FLato say in the Iheaetetus, to menr- 
tion him in partioiLar? Does he not advise the 
soul to flee fron the earth and to busy itself as 
far as possible in thou^t and contemplation con- 
cemiqg Him? DOre you lao^ at us because we s£^ 
that there will be a restrrection of the dead, a 
fact iiiiich we admit we say but maintain that you 
hear it in a sense different from ours?” (11. 13) 

From these rhetorical questions concerning resur¬ 
rection, the treatise turns to the broader issue of the 
immortality of the soul. 

At the outset of the discussion much support for 
the Christian view of the soul is adduced from pagan 
writers, especially Plato. Then, in chapters 20-23, the 
transition to a criticism of the pagan position is made 
by ”positlng an analogy.” This analogy is one of the 
earliest proposals on record for a controlled experi¬ 
ment, the goal here being to see whether ” ... souls are 
divine and therefore immortal, and ... fly to the bodies 
of men with every kind of learning....” (II. 22) 

In his experiment, Arnobius proposes that an infant 
be raj^sed in a totally controlled environment to see 
whether he will "naturally” be able to answer questions 
concerning his origin. If the souls of men are eternal, 
having a pre-existence with the divine, then as we grow 
into self-consciousness we should be able to answer 
questions as to our former state and destiny: Arnobius 
here seems to assume Plato's doctrine of recollection. 

let him grow then, nourished ly us in secluded 
isolation, to an age of your choice: do you say 
twenty? thirty? let him reach forty ^ars. 

... [b]efore he acquires kicwled^ of arythipg or 
is initiated to hinan speech, let him give answer 


43 



to the qiBStions: vho be Is and fron ^Mbat father, 
la ykiat locality he ms bom, in vtet my or ty 
what method ms he given sustenance, practlcii^ 
what w>xk or business previously, he has ccce 
throi^ the period of his existence In the past." 

(IL22) 

Arnobius then proceeds with his analysis of the 
Platonic view of the soul. Arnobius*s criticism of this 
doctrine is three-fold. First, if the soul is immor¬ 
tal, and thus necessarily a product of the immortal, im¬ 
mutable, unchangeable, divine One, then there can be no 
Hell or suffering for the soul. 

"But the well-kncwn penalties in the lower world 
and maty different kinds of pmisbment, \^t about 
than?" But \kio will be so laddng in sense and so 
unsware of the conseqienoes of events as to believe 
that when the souls are Incom^tlble the shades of 
Tartarus can do aiy ham?... [T]he soul nust of 
necessity remain uninjured and intouched and take 
to itself no sensation of deadly sufferipg. (II. 30) 

Though this argument may seem obscure to us today, to 
the classical mind it would have been far more compel¬ 
ling. Immortality was not a quality of the physical 
(corporeal) world; only the One was eternal and thus un¬ 
changing and unaffected. The soul, derived from the 
One, was non-created, self-moved, self-determined and 
imperishable, albeit encased within a perishable body 
(cf. Plato, Phaedrus ).In his first criticism, Arno¬ 
bius simply extends the argument, noting that if these 
things are true of the soul, then the sufferings of the 
soul depicted in pagan mythology are not possible. This 
leads easily to Arnobius's second criticism of the doc¬ 
trine of immortality. 

Immortality, Arnobius argues, breeds immorality. 
"What man is there, although he be of a character that 
ever flees from the realm of infamy and shame, who, when 
he hears expressly stated by the wisest of men that 
souls are immortal and not subject to the laws of the 
fates, would not rush headlong into every kind of shame¬ 
ful deed...." (II. 29) If there is no punishment for 
evil, as Arnobius has already argued would be necessi¬ 
tated by the soul's immortality, then evil has no excuse 
for restraint. "And how will he be deterred by the 
dread of any fear who has been convinced that he is im¬ 
mortal just as is the Supreme God Himself and that by 
Him no judgment against himself can be passed, since 
there is one and the same immortality in each...." 
(II. 29) 

The third criticism of this view of the soul offer¬ 
ed by Arnobius is the general observation that the Pla¬ 
tonic understanding gives much too high a view of man. 


44 



rest the safety of your souls oa y:>ur ohh 
selves and are confident that y^ur personal ef*- 
fort you became divine.... the moment you are 
freed from the bonds of y^ur bodies and depart, 
thlik wLpgs will be ready for you, to enable you to 
hasten to heaven and soar to the stars; ^ shridc 
from such presumptions. (11. 33) 

If the soul is not immortal, what does Arnoblus po¬ 
sit as the correct view? Two points are made in answer 
to this question. (11. 31ff) First, the soul does not 
emanate from God (contra Plato), nor is it merely a part 
of the natural order that will be dissolved in the cos¬ 
mos with the death of the body (contra Epicurus). **A 
certain neutral character, therefore, and an undefined 
and doubtful nature ... is the soul.” The soul is an 
intermediate substance ( media qualitas) between matter 
and spirit. Arnoblus's second point follows naturally. 

Since this is the case and since by the highest air 
thority ve have received the view that the soid.s 
are established not far frcm the gapipg Jaws of 
death; that nevertheless they can be nade loqg- 
lived by the gift and favor of the Supraue Rd.er, 
if only they try and stujy to understand Him — for 
knawled^ of is a sort of leaven of life and 
glue to bind together in one elements otheiwise not 
cohesive — let them ... taikB up more gentle nar 
tures, so that they can be pr^>ared for \diat will 
be given. (XL 32) 

Souls live in bodies as intermediate substances holding 
the potential for eternity or for death. ”As for us, we 
neither have hopes that this [return to God] can be done 
without the Lord of things nor believe that so much pow¬ 
er and privilege is granted to any man.” (II. 33) 
"Christ has not only promised it, but also has demon¬ 
strated by His extraordinary powers that it can be ful¬ 
filled; what outlandishness do we practice or on what 
grounds are we guilty of the charge of folly, if we 
prostrate ourselves before His name and majesty, to whom 
we look for both power to flee a death of torture and to 
be granted life eternal?” (II. 34) 

The opportunity for eternity which has been offered 
through Christ is displayed in His resurrection. Christ 
has "demonstrated by His extraordinary powers” this re¬ 
lease from death and its tortures, and he offers the 
same to us. Immortality, though not natural to our 
souls, is made possible by Christ. 

This puts the teaching of Arnoblus on the soul in 
its literary context, but what was the philosophical mi¬ 
lieu in which Arnoblus was writing? What moved our au¬ 
thor* to base his argument on a doctrine so far removed 
from the mainstream of Christian thought and from the 

45 



approach of other early apologists, including his owti 
pupil Lactantius? Whom is Arnobius attacking? ^7 we are 
not left without clues in Book Two. Beginning in chap¬ 
ter 15, Arnobius mentions certain "new men” ( viri novi ) 
or “upstarts” who have “deceived by what promises us 
vain hopes.“ These “new men" Arnobius sees as holding 
an inflated view of man based on their belief in the im¬ 
mortality of the soul. There has been much discussion 
as to who these "new men" are,l^ but from the text it¬ 
self it seems clear that they are at least Flatonists 
of some sort. If this is the case, why are they called 
“upstarts" or "new men"? For the answer to this we must 
look more closely at the intellectual history of the 
time. 

The thought life of the Mediterranean world during 
the first centuries after Christ was rich in con¬ 
trasts. This was an age of great political and econ¬ 

omic changes, an “age of anxiety" (cf. E.R. Dodds), an 
age of syncretistic thinking, an age of religious fervor 
that simultaneously witnessed a “decline of rational¬ 
ism. “ During the latter third century, one system of 
thought came to dominance over all others as a sort of 
last gasp of Pagan philosophy: Neo-Platonism. Neo¬ 

platonism first emerged during the third century in the 
thought of the Alexandrian philosopher Ammonius Saccas, 
himself from a Christian home. Amiaonius at one time or 
another had as students both the great Neo-Platonlst 
philosopher Plotinus and the Christian scholar Origen. 

Neo-Platonic thought was most thoroughly developed 
by Plotinus and his pupil Porphyry. These men wove 
together elements taken from Eastern Mysticism (divine 
emanation) along with Platonic dualism, Neo-Pythagorean 
asceticism, and a Christian concern for salvation. 
The result was a system of belief centered on an all- 
encompassing One from whom souls emanated and to whom 
souls could return. Salvation consisted in looking in¬ 
ward to recognize the power and desire which effected 
one’s purification (Enneads 1, 6:8 ff). In the Neo- 

Plat onic system there was no need for special or provi¬ 
dential grace, no need for mediating prayer or rites. 
“Awakening" and purification were concerns of the con¬ 
scious soul—they involved moral and intellectual work. 
This basic Neo-Platonic ideology was articulated differ¬ 
ently in various mystery religions and popular philoso¬ 
phies of the time. An example of this Pagan-Christian- 
Eastem mix can be found in the Life of Apollonius of 
Tyana , a work dating from about the same time as Ammon¬ 
ius Saccas and Plotinus. 

It is probable, as Fortin posits,that this new 
Alexandrian syncretism was the force Arnobius felt im¬ 
pelled to battle. No other system of thought was so ac¬ 
tive during the late third century. To a man apparently 
steeped in pagan ritual and worship (I. 39), these expo¬ 
nents of Neo-Platonism wotild indeed be “viri novi." If 


46 



this is the case, then we can make some evaluations of 
Arnobius’s apologetic method as found in Book Two of 
Against the Nations, 

As we have already seen, the context of Arnobius’s 
argument is that Christ's teaching on the resurrection 
is reliable and true. It is true because ”it is the 
power and right of Christ alone to give salvation to the 
souls and to assign them the breath of eternity.” (II. 
65) This would certainly be meaningless to a follower 
of Plotinus or Porphyry: to these "upstarts,” salvation 
is something we have within ourselves because of our 
power to return to the One. Nor can there be punishment 
for what emanates from the divine. For the gospel to 
penetrate this mindset, the issues of the nature of the 
soul and of heaven and hell must be addressed—but a re¬ 
definition of terms will be necessary, for ”we say that 
there will be a resurrection of the dead, a fact which 
we admit we say, but maintain that you hear it in a 
sense different from ours.” 

To be heard at all in such an enviromnent, an apol¬ 
ogist must use the language of his audience. Thus, 
Arnobius refers to Plato again and again, cites Pytha¬ 
goras and Vergil, and discusses frankly the cultic wor¬ 
ship of his time. It must be admitted also that his au¬ 
dience would be well aware of Christ, for many Neo-Pla- 
tonists had simply added Christ to their catalog of the 
gods. At one point Arnobius seems to be hearing his 
critics raise their voices when he mentions Christ: 
"And therefore Christ, who, though that does not meet 
your approval, is God, Christ God - yes, this must be 
stated often for the burning and splitting of infidel 
ears....” (11.60) 

In speaking so directly of Christ's authority and 
divinity and of the resurrection of the dead, Arnobius 
is apparently battling in an advanced form what the 
Apostle Paul had faced in the churches of Ephesus, Cor¬ 
inth, and Colossae over two centuries before. ^2 These 
churches were being influenced by Hellenized-Jewish 
thought which was making "shipwreck” of some. The over¬ 
realized eschatology of these people, who apparently be¬ 
lieved that the resurrection had already occurred, also 
finds its roots in Platonic dualism and the idea of the 
emanation of souls. When people fully accepted this 
view of the immortality of the soul, the resurrection of 
the dead became meaningless (cf. Paul's defense in I 
Cor. 15) and immoral and licentious behavior resulted 
("immortality breeds immorality;” cf. Col. 2:16-23). 
The immortality of the soul in this sense was no more 
acceptable to Paul the Apostle than to Arnobius. Both 
realized that the Good News of Christ was dependent upon 
a proper view of the soul and the afterlife: "salvation” 
means nothing to one who is already immortal in this 
sense. 

Why is it that, if Arnobius spoke so powerfully to 

47 



his audience» he Is so little respected today? Had 
Arnoblus chosen to defend the divinity of Christ or the 
unity of God, two doctrines which were not mjor stumb¬ 
ling blocks to Neo-Platonlsts, he would doubtless be 
footnoted alongside the other Fathers. Unfortunately, 
not only was the mortality of the soul a side Issue when 
compared to other doctrines, but Arnoblus defended a 
view that did not predominate after the Nlcene era.^^ 
If we find his arguments less than convincing, we need 
to remember that "the Immortality of the soul'* Is not a 
biblical but a Hellenistic phrase, and that. In the 
words of Plutarch, "The Idea of annihilation was 
Intolerable to the Greek mind. If they had no choice 
left between entire extinction and an eternity of 
torment In Hades, they would have chosen the latter." 
(Epic. 1104, 1105) 


48 



NOT£S 


Charles Thomas Cruttwell, A Literary History of Early Christian¬ 
ity , (London: Charles Griffin & Co., 1893), p. 630. 

2 Pierre Labriolle, History of Literature of Christianity , trans. 
Herbert Wilson (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1924), p. 193. 

^ F.A. Wright, Fathers of the Church (New York: E.P. Dutton & Co., 
1929), p. 141. We must note that Wright is much more positive on Arno- 
bius than these others. 

^ Labriolle, p. 199, 

5 Arnobius, Against the Nations , trans. George E. McCracken (New 
York: Newman Press, 1949), p. 4. 

^ Other criticism directed at such matters as his knowledge and 
use of scripture, understanding of the Old Testament, acceptance of the 
impassibility of God, and low view of man will only be discussed as it 
sheds light on his apologetic method. 

7 Wright, p. 140. 

® Philip Schaff, History of the Christian Church , 10th ed., 8 
vols. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1980) 11:857. 

Q 

^ All quotations from Arnobius’s Against the Nations are taken 
from the edition translated by George E. McCracken, cited in note 5 
above. 

"*0 H.C.G. Moule, "Arnobius,” in A Dictionary of Christian Bio~ 
graphy (London: n.p., 1977), p. 167. 

‘"I See, for example, Eusebius’s Preparation for the Gospel , which, 
though written from Caesarea, contains many of the same arguments and 
answers many of the same questions which Arnobius raises. 

For further reading on this see Jean Danielou's discussion in 
The Origins of Christianity , vol. 3: The Origins of Latin Christianity » 
trans. David Smith and John A. Baker (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 
1977), pp. 223-231 ; cf, Wri^t, pp. 23-26; cf. also Ernest G, Sihler, 
From Augustus to Augustine (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 
1923). 

This pertains to ch. 13-53. In 1-12 Arnobius discusses the 
centrality of Christ and the nature of faith; in 54-71 he discusses the 
problem of evil, the "newness” of Christianity, the fate of those who 
lived before Christ's time, and again states the centrality of Christ. 
All of these are common themes in early apologetic. 

It must be acknowledged at the outset that Arnobius's view of 
the soul is not "wrong” or "heretical.” Wiat may be considered the 
"orthodox" belief that the soul is immortal and destined to eternity 
with God or to eternity separated from God was late in origin. The 
Bible does not speak of the "immortality of the soul," but rather of 
man who has the potential, through Christ, to participate in the great 
banquet eternally, or, without Christ, to suffer in the outer dark¬ 
ness. Barth stated that he did not believe in a soul which would be 
released as a butterfly after death: rather, "I believe in the resur¬ 
rection of the body." (Barth, Dogmatics in Outline , p. 154.) This is 
sound biblical theology. What is surprising about Arnobius's view of 
the soul is not that he wonders and philosophizes about the soul's ori¬ 
gin and end (as did Augustine in The Problem of Free Choice , 3:21, 59), 
but that he presents his "unorthodox" teaching as fundamental to his 
apologetic. Though we are seldom made aware of this discussion today, 
Edward Fudge's recent publication. The Fire that Consumes , defends the 


49 



idea that Arnobius was well within the orthodox camp. 

It is important to remember that this criticism has been intro¬ 
duced in a discussion of Christ’s authority—specifically, a defense of 
His teaching on the resurrection. 

In this regard Catullus wrote, "Suns can set and rise again, 
but we, when our brief day is done, must sleep for an eternal nic^t." 

It is necessary to place any apologetic within the framework of 
its cultural setting. We do this automatically in Biblical exegesis , 
noting the contrast between the bridges Peter builds to the Jewish com¬ 
munity in Acts 2 and Paul's apologetic in Athens in Acts 17. 

For a survey of options and their proponents, see Forten, pp. 

197-205. 

The following works are useful as an introduction to this ma¬ 
terials W.R. Halliday, The Pagan Background of Early Christianity (New 
Yorks Cooper Square, 1925); E.R. Dodds, Pagan and Christian in an Age 
of Anxiety (New York; W.W. Norton, 1970); Antonia Tripolitis, "Return 
to the Divine," in Discipline Nostra, edited by Donald F. Winslow 
(Philadelphia: Patristic Foundation, 1979); Frederick Copleston, A His¬ 
tory of Philosophy (New Yorks Doubleday, 1962); Sihler, From Augustus 
to Au^stine . 

Schaff-Herzoq Encyclopedia of Religious Knowledge , s.v. "Neo¬ 
platonism," by M. Heinze. 

Ernest L. Fortin, "The Viri Novi of Arnobius," in The Heritage 
of the Early Church, ed. David Neiman and Margaret Schatkin (Romes 
Pontificum Institutum Studiorum Orientalium, 1973), pp. 197-226. 

^2 For a discussion of the "false teaching" current in these ci¬ 
ties, sees Gordon Fee, Corinthianss A Study Guide (Brussels: Interna¬ 
tional Correspondence institutes, 1979); J.B. Li^tfoot, St. Paul's 
Epistles to the Colossians and to Philemon (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 
1970); C.K Barrett, The First Epistle to the Corinthians (New Yorks 
Harper and Row, 1966). 

25 Edward W. Fudge, The Fire that Consumes (Fallbrook, California: 
Verdict, 1982), pp. 313-384. After surveying the Ante-Nicene Fathers, 
Fudge concludes that the immortality of the soul was not fixed in its 
expression until after the early fourth century. It became an issue 
after the Hellenistic views of the soul held by such church leaders as 
Origen had begun to be felt. 


50 






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52 




jom CALVIN AND THE SABBATH 
By David Dupee 


To study John Calvin's view of the Sabbath is to 
enter into a controversy which has been raging ever 
since he first articulated his position* This debate 
has been carried on with the greatest intensity within 
the Reformed camp between those who see themselves as 
classical Sabbatarians and others who find in Calvin a 
different approach to the Sabbath which they deem more 
consistent with the Scriptures. As we shall see, the 
issue is complicated by the fact that each camp draws 
liberally from Calvin's writings to buttress its posi¬ 
tion. Our task in this article will be to explore Cal¬ 
vin's writings in search of a coherent position on the 
meaning of the Sabbath. 

As has already been stated, there has been contro¬ 
versy on the question of Calvin's view of the Sabbath 
from his own day. As early as 1550, Calvin had to de¬ 
fend himself against the slander that he wished to 
abolish the Sabbath. Answering this charge in a letter 
to his friend Haller, ^ Calvin must have been somewhat 
amused at the irony, in light of the opposition he faced 
in Geneva because of his strict views on the public ob¬ 
servance of the Lord's Day. Some Genevans would have 
been delighted if such a rumor had been true! 

Though Calvin did not wish to abolish the Sabbath, 
his understanding of it was sufficiently distinctive in 
its emphasis that many of his spiritual descendants were 
to part coiqpany with him on this issue. At no point is 
this more clear than in the respective treatments given 
to the Fourth Commandment of the Decalogue ("Remember 
the Sabbath day....") in the Heidelberg Catechism and 
the Westminster Shorter Catechism. To the question of 
what is required in the Fourth Commandment, the former 
responds: 

... that I diligently attend durdi, especially on 
the lord's Ihy, to bear the Vford of God, to parti¬ 
cipate in the Holy Sacianents . •. and to give 
Christian service to those in need. Second, that 1 
cease from evil woiks all the days of life, al¬ 
low the Lord to wotk in me throng his Spirit, and 
thus begin in this life the eternal sabbath. ^ 

To this same question the Shorter Catechism replies: 

The Sebbath is to be sanctified by a holy restipg 
all that day 9 even from such worldly employments 
and recreations as are lawful on other days; and 
spending the whole time in the pii)iic and private 
exercises of God's worship, except so much as is to 
be taken up in the works of necessity and mercy. ^ 


53 



It should be noted that while the Heidelberg Catechism 
stresses the proper worship of God, it never speaks of a 
Sabbath day, but rather of a day when special emphasis 
is to be given to a "resting from our evil works so that 
God might work in us," Though the difference between 
this and the Westminster Shorter Catechism’s response— 
which specifically mentions a Sabbath day and mandates a 
cessation from all "worldly employments and recrea¬ 
tions"—might at first seem small, these differences 
outline the very crux of the issue. It will be seen 
that the Heidelberg Catechism deliberately reflects the 
thought and language of Calvin as expressed particularly 
in the Institutes , These have proved troubling for many 
people. An advertisement by the editors of the Presby¬ 
terian Board of Publications, which appeared with their 
mid-nineteenth-century edition of the Institutes , 
remarks: 

The most decidedly objectionable feature in the 
Christian 3hstit\ites is to be found in the ejqplan- 
ation of the Fourth Commandnent, where the author 
asserts the abrp^tion of the Sabbath,,•• in this 
opinion there can be no doubt that he greatly 
erred, 

It is time for Calvin to speak for himself. 

It must be noted from the outset that Calvin’s un¬ 
derstanding of the Fourth Commandment is unique precise¬ 
ly because he is convinced that the commandment itself 
is unique when compared with the rest of the Decalogue, 
It is certainly unique in its content, since it mandates 
a ceremonial observance, and for Calvin this setting a- 
sidei of the seventh day as a Sabbath means that a dif¬ 
ferent "order of exposition”^ is required, the same sort 
of exposition as that which is needed in dealing with 
other ceremonial laws found in the Old Testament, This 
exposition begins with the assumption that the impor¬ 
tance of a ceremony is truly comprehended only when one 
grasps that to which the ceremony points. To observe a 
ceremony without some idea of its foreshadowing function 
would be meaningless. There has never been any benefit 
to be derived from a mere cessation of work on the Sab¬ 
bath, since the Sabbath was given as a sign, a type, 
speaking of something greater to come. It is Calvin’s 
conviction that such ceremonial foreshadowing "occupied 
the chief place in the Sabbath,"^ 

Though the Sabbath was but a shadow, its importance 
was not diminished in the Old Testament. Rather, be¬ 
cause of the importance of that which it typified, we 
find that in the Old Testament it was "held in singular 
esteem among all the precepts of the Law.Indeed, the 
significance of the Sabbath is such that when God, hav¬ 
ing entered into covenant lawsuits with his people. 


54 



wished to charge them with flagrant and gross transgres¬ 
sion of his law, he often did so by citing their viola¬ 
tion of the Sabbath,S Calvin asserts that the reason 
for the seriousness of Sabbath-breaking in God*s eyes is 
that all of religion is summarized and finds its meaning 
in the Sabbath. Commenting on Isaiah 56, where God 
equates keeping the Sabbath with ''holding fast the cove¬ 
nant," Calvin observes: "••• so by that figure of speech 
in which a part is taken for the whole, and which is 
called a synecdoche, the Sabbath includes all the exer¬ 
cises of religion, "9 So the Fourth Commandment not only 
foreshadows a great promise to be fulfilled, but is of 
sufficient import that it can be said to summarize the 
whole thrust of the Law, To what, then, does the Sab¬ 
bath point? 

According to Calvin, the Sabbath was primarily a 
type of the spiritual rest "in which believers ought to 
lay aside their own works to allow God to work in 
them«"i® Here, Calvin is not referring to a mere leave 
from physical labor, but to a renunciation of self, an 
acknowledgment of sinfulness and corruption, so that the 
believer might look to God as the source of his sancti¬ 
fication. In support of this view he cites Ezekiel 
20:12: "And I also gave them Sabbaths to be a sign be¬ 
tween me and them, that they might know that 1 am the 
Lord who sanctifies them." The Sabbath typified a bet¬ 
ter sabbath that God would bring, so that by keeping the 
Sabbath day which God had provided, Israel would acknow¬ 
ledge that it was God who was her sanctifier. 

Calvin’s exegesis is particularly impressive at 
this point. By stressing the Sabbath as a sign that God 
is the sanctifier of his people (see also Ex. 31:13b), 
he not only shows the summary function of the Sabbath 
but suggests why its violation was taken so seriously by 
the Lord. To neglect the Sabbath was to break the whole 
spirit of the Law, for the Sabbath was designed to re¬ 
mind God’s people of their dependence upon him and his 
covenant faithfulness. That God demanded the death pen¬ 
alty for a man caught gathering wood on the Sabbath^ ^ 
was not an indication of the value he placed on simple 
idleness on the day, but rather emphasized that the 
failure to sanctify that day constituted a denial that 
God was Israel’s sanctifier. That Israel would profane 
the Sabbath was such an unthinkable disgrace that the 
prophets were given unusually harsh words of judgment 
from the Lord in response. Though the prophet customar¬ 
ily issued God’s complaint first in the Temple and then 
went to the gates of the city, God commanded Jeremiah to 
go directly to the city’s gates to denounce the people’s 
stiffnecked refusal to keep the Sabbath. 

Calvin also cites Isaiah 58:13-14 in this regard. He 
asserts that here "turning the foot" is more than merely 
a reference to the injunctions against travel on the 
Sabbath—this is an instance where walking is used to 


55 



"denote the whole course of human life."^^ The exhorta¬ 
tion to "desisting from your own ways, from seeking your 
own pleasure” Calvin takes to mean, not simply ceasing 
from physical labor, but setting aside all self-moti¬ 
vated efforts in order to meditate on Cod’s works and 
his sufficiency. In a sermon on Deuteronomy, Calvin 
again stresses this: "If men could, through their own 
power, perform the Law, it would have been said to them, 
'Labor thou.' But contrariwise it is said, 'Rest ye,' 
to the end that Cod may work. 

In short, the Sabbath is at the center of the whole 
worship of Cod becatise it brings forward the principle 
of "self-renunciation. ”15 xf indeed this is of the es¬ 
sence of all true religion, why then did Cod set aside 
only one day in the week for its promotion? Calvin's 
reply is that Cod's design was "to show that when we 
have applied our best efforts, we won't arrive till 
stripped of our flesh." "To arrive” here means to 

enter into that spiritiial rest which is typified by the 
Sabbath. Calvin contrasts the Sabbath under the Law 
with the perpetual sabbath which was to be introduced by 
Christ when he comments on the hallowing of the seventh 
day in Genesis 2:3: 

^tetwards, in the l£Mr, a new precept concerning 
the Sabbath was given, which would be peculiar to 
the Jews and but for a season; because it was a 
legal oereDoocy shadowing forth a spiritual rest, 
the truth of which was manifested in Christ. 1^ 

In his preface to the Geneva Bible of 1550, Calvin 
writes of the relationship between Christ and the Law: 

... [T]o confirm them in the long expectation of 
the Great ^hssiah, Cod ^ve than as a pled^, his 
written Cereooonial la/, in which were cxxoprised 
maiy Ceremonies ... ^ch things were only figures 
and Shadows of great good things to cone by Christ, 
who alone is the Bodty and Truth of them. 1^ 

Christ as the fulfillment of the Law is a common theme 
in Calvin's writings, but this should never be construed 
So as to drive a wedge between the Testaments. Calvin 
makes it abundantly clear that believers of old and new 
dispensations alite find ”the same end designed for 
both” in the Sabbath. The difference is that believ¬ 
ers in the Old Testament were guided by external types 
and figures, while we have the substance of the Sabbath 
in Christ himself. Calvin even speaks of the Sabbath as 
a sacrament for Old Testament believers, since "it was a 
visible sign of an invisible grace. Now that the 

substance prefigured by the ceremonial law has come, 
though, the Sabbath as sacrament is no longer needed. 


56 



Calvin maintains that, in order to understand how 
Christ actually fulfilled the Sabbath, we must first 
grasp the nature of the redemptive work of Christ and 
its application to the believer. In this regard Calvin 
turns to Romans 6, where he finds the teaching that the 
old nature has been crucified and burled with Christ so 
that the believer might participate in newness of life 
with Him.^1 It has already been noted that for Calvin 
the heart of true religion is the renunciation of the 
sinful nature. There is no mistaking his meaning when 
he writes, spiritual rest is nothing else than the 

truly desirable and blessed death of man.To experi¬ 
ence this spiritual rest is, in the words of Paul, to 
glory in one's death through the death of Christ and to 
rejoice because it is now Christ who lives in us. The 
old man must die, but this is accomplished neither by a 
cessation of labor, nor by an imagined effort on our 
part, but by Christ alone, in whom our sins are "blotted 
out. "23 The man who has been crucified with Christ now 
enters a perpetual sabbath through the "checking and re¬ 
newing influence of the Holy Spirit."2^ What was in the 
old covenant represented from a distance by the setting 
apart of one day, the believer is now initiated into2 ^ 
by life in Christ. Indeed, the blessed hope of the 
Christian is the anticipation of that day when the to¬ 
tality of the old humanity will be swallowed up in and 
renewed by the life of Christ. Commenting on the glori¬ 
ous future promised by God to His people in Isaiah 
66:23, Calvin writes: 

But under the reign of Christ there shall be a con¬ 
stant and uninterrupted solaiKiity; for there are 
not fixed and stated days of sacrifices on which ve 
must go to Jesus ... but our obLatioos, festivals, 
and rejoicipgs are continued fran day to day in un¬ 
broken succession. 

In the Institutes , Calvin notes three basic reasons 
for the Sabbath: to represent to Israel spiritual rest; 
to provide a stated day for the proper exercise of the 
cultus and meditation on God's works; and to provide a 
day of rest for servants. 27 Since Calvin maintains that 
the ceremonial dimension of the Sabbath has been super¬ 
seded by Christ, in order to distinguish between that 
which is perpetually binding on God's people and that 
which functions figuratively within the Sabbath, Calvin 
must identify what he deems the passing, typical aspect 
of the Sabbath. 

Calvin begins by observing that mere physical rest 
has never been acceptable to God as a fulfillment of the 
Fourth Conrmandment: there is nothing sacred about simple 
idleness on the Sabbath. Rather, it is the autonomous 
attitude evident in man's evil works which is to be 
guarded against. There was nothing evil per se, for in- 

57 



stance, about gathering wood on the Sabbath in the i4a-T 
sale dispensation; the evil lay in refusing to acknow¬ 
ledge God as the Lord and meditate on His works. Hence, 
labor must never be outlawed in the belief that inactiv¬ 
ity is meritorious in itself. Even in ancient Israel, 
the mandate against Sabbath labor was never intended as 
an end| but as a means by which to consecrate time to 
the worshiip of God* 

Though Calvin is on relatively safe ground here, 
what follows is fraught with controversy. According to 
Calvin, at the heart of the ceremonial aspect of the 
Sabbath which is fulfilled and set aside by Christ is 
the strict observance of one day in seven. This obser¬ 
vance is no longer bound on the Christian simply because 
what that one day had signified“spiritual rest—we now 
find in Christ. He writes: 


This is not confined to a single day but extends 
through the whole coacse of our life, uitil, con- 
pletedy dead to ourselves, we are fulfilled with 
the: life of Cbd. Christians oi:^t therefore to 
shin ocioplete]y the superstitious observance of 
days.^ 

Calvin's stance at this point is informed not only by 
his understanding of sabbath rest but also by Paul's ex¬ 
hortation that we ”let no one act as [our] judge in re¬ 
gard to a Sabbath day.” (Colossians 2:16) Galvin 
understands this as a warning not only against resur¬ 
recting a ceremonial observance, but especially against 
thus implicitly dishonoring Christ. "Hence, the wan who 
calls back the ceremonies into use either buries the 
manifestation of Christ, or robs Christ of his excel¬ 
lence,, and makes him in a matter void."^^ Calvin argues 
that if we have begun that rest foreshadowed by the Sab¬ 
bath, there is no need to submit ourselves again to such 
a Judaizing influence. Commenting on Colossians 2:20, 
he writes that we no longer observe the Sabbath day, 
*^for it is necessary for us to render this honor to 
Jesus Christ. 

Since it is clear that Calvin believes there must 
be no consecration of a particular day in the Jewish 
seuse, how is this to be reconciled with the strict ob¬ 
servance of the Lord's Day which was mandated in Cal¬ 
vin's Geneva? Though there were those who accused him 
of abolishing the Sabbath, there were many more detrac¬ 
tors who found in Geneva a Jewish "observance of days," 
and, as one writer has pointed out, not long after his 
death the strictest of Sabbatarians were appealing to 
Galvin to support their arguments.Calvin addressed 
this directly when he wrote: 

But some will *\ie still keqp up some obser- 

vmca of days.” I answer, that we do not ly ary 

58 



means observe days, as though there were any sa¬ 
credness in holidays, or as though it were not law¬ 
ful to labor upon them, but that respect is paid to 
government and order—not to days.^^ 

In placing the emphasis on "government and order," Cal¬ 
vin argxaes that though God gives His people great free¬ 
dom as to their worship of Him, because of our laziness 
and lack of due reverence for God it is necessary and 
helpful to have one day set aside when all of the faith¬ 
ful may gather to worship Him. He further asserts that 
this is the spirit behind those I\tew Testament texts 
which exhort believers to regularly assemble themselves 
together. Thus, a day is set aside, not because the day 
itself is sacred, but simply because a stated day is 
necessary for the faithful to properly worship God. 

It is here that the reformer finds continuity be¬ 
tween Sabbath and Lord's Day. Just as Israel needed a 
day in which to hear the Law and meditate on God's cove¬ 
nant righteousness, similarly the Church needs a day 
"spent in hearing his Word, in offering common prayers, 
in confessing our faith, and in observing the 
sacraments. It is that to which we are called. 
Calvin stresses our reliance on the ordinances and 
sacraments in the Church. The usefulness of this day is 
found in its ability to encourage a lifetime of sabbath 
rest in Christ and to "fashion and polish”us for the 
giving of thanks throughout the week. 

Because the Christian only grows by meditating on 
God's goodness and renouncing his own sinfulness, it is 
necessary that this weekly observance be carefully 
protected against encroachment: 

Ihus we ou^t to observe Sunday as if from a tower 
in order that we might cliiDb hig^ upon it to con- 
tecplate the works of God from afar, in a way in 
which we are neither inpeded by nor occupied by 
aiiythiqg else. 

Calvin agrees that the abiding significance of sabbath 
rest is only for God's people, but he notes that the 
Fourth Commandment was applied to strangers in the midst 
of Israel. In a sermon on Deuteronomy, Calvin seems to 
make a direct application to the situation in Geneva: 

And hereby we be warned, not only to sanctify our¬ 
selves by God's word: but also not to suffer aty 
occasion of offense or disorder to be caomDn amoqg 
us, but to see that all such things be clean rid 
away.3h 

It was this conviction that made it incumbent upon every 
citizen of Geneva to respect those days set aside for 
the proper worship of God. In another passage from this 


59 



sermon often cited by Sabbatarians, Calvin urges tbe 
protection of Sunday worship: 

But v^ien the shopwlndows are shut in on the lord's 
Biay, and men travel not as they do on other days; 
it is to the end that we should have more leisure 
and liberty, to attend to the thipgs God cannan- 
deth.37 

What is often omitted by Sabbatarians, however, is Cal¬ 
vin's summary statement: "That is the purpose whereunto 
this order ought to serve us."^^ This is an important 
point, for though the pattern of observance of the 
lord's Day in Geneva paralleled that held dear by Sab¬ 
batarians at some points, Geneva's practice rested, not 
on the putative sanctity of the day, but on convenience 
and necessity. 

Perhaps most distressing to many who have disagreed 
with Ca.lvln is his refusal to attach any sacred function 
to the seventh-day pattern found first in Genesis 2:3. 
Though he admits that there is some significance to the 
number seven, he denies that the seventh day itself has 
any special place. What is required here is not the 
consecratipn of the seventh day but that at least one 
day in seven be set aside for the purpose of meditating 
on God's works. Calvin is willing to entertain other 
possibilities for the meaning of the number seven,but 
he remains adamant that the Church is neither bound to 
any one da.y nor to only one day in seven. 

Because of this conviction, Calvin does not hesi¬ 
tate to add that the Church is no more bound to the 
first day of the week than to the seventh. He is only 
being consistent in this, since he finds no scriptural 
mandate to set aside the warning of Colossians 2:16. 
Though the early believers soon began to meet on the 
first day of the week, this was because after careful 
consideration they had determined that the fulfillment 
of the Sabbath was to be found in the Lord's resurrec¬ 
tion, and not because Sunday was now divinely commis¬ 
sioned as a CSiristian Sabbath. If indeed Christ ful¬ 
fills the Sabbath, the Church has no warrant to conse¬ 
crate another day in its place. "Hence, by the very day 
that brought the shadows to an end, Christians are warn¬ 
ed not to cling to the shadow rite. 

Calvin agrees that it was fitting that the early 
Church should set aside the first day of the weeic as a 
time of corporate worship, and that this remains an ap¬ 
propriate practice which might be adopted by any church 
which chooses to do so. However, he parts company with 
others when he insists that the first day is not to be 
consecrated as a Christian Sabbath directly related to 
the Jewish Sabbath of the fourth Commandment; this would 
repre aaht a return to the shadow of the ceremonial law 
after tlte aubstanee has appeared. The day matters not. 


60 



only that there be at least one "solemn day" for every 
seven and that it be observed properly. Calvin makes 
this point in the Institutes ; "And X shall not condemn 
churches that have solemn days for their meetings, pro¬ 
vided there be no superstition."^^ 

This overview of Calvin's understanding of the 
Lord’s Day has suggested points at which it differs from 
the perspective expressed in the Westminster Shorter 
Catechism; it remains to take a closer look at Calvin's 
understanding of the place of sabbath rest. That he be¬ 
lieved Christians should experience the sabbath rest of 
God on a daily basis is clear. His statement, "It is 
necessary for the faithful throughout their life to keep 
the sabbath day,"^^ is a reference to that rest which we 
know because of our life in Christ; in the same sermon 
he notes, "For we must not interpret this to mean that 
only one day a week we should renounce our thoughts and 
affections; rather we must continue in this attitude 
throughout our life. 

As might be expected, the book of Hebrews is funda¬ 
mental to Calvin's understanding of sabbath rest in the 
Christian's life. He points to chapter four to argue 
that God intends for His people to enter His rest, when 
they will "rest from their works as He has from His." 
Calvin grants that believers do not fully esqperience 
God's rest in this life, but he insists that Christians 
should at least enter into it. He harbors no illusion 
that sinful man may finally overcome the affections of 
the flesh, for "there will always remain some dregs till 
we be fully united to our God, and he has taken us up 
into his heavenly kingdom.Nevertheless, to under¬ 
take the journey of faith is to grow in this rest, so 
that the elect "by running may continually go for¬ 
ward. 


It is on the question of growth in sabbath rest 
that Calvin’s language is most evocative. On the one 
hand he speaks eloquently of this rest, and on the other 
there is scarcely a passage that does not breathe with 
military and athletic imagery. Calvin entertains no il¬ 
lusions that the Christian life is to be casually culti¬ 
vated; rather, it must be pursued within the framework 
of the death and resurrection of Christ. Self-denial or 
mortification of the flesh is the primary means by which 
the believer participates in the crucifixion of Christ. 
If we are to know God's sabbath rest, then the old man 
must die. Because "there remains in a regenerate man a 
smoldering cinder of evil,"^^ our hearts are battle¬ 
fields where skirmishes are fought daily. Through the 
discipline of self-denial the Christian finds that, 
though sin dwells within him, it no longer reigns over 
him.^^ Self-denial for Calvin represents not an ascetic 
life of self-abnegation but a conformity to Christ which 
results from union with Him. Moreover, identification 
with Clirist's death through mortification of the flesh 


61 



includes not only self-denial but also submission to 
God’s discipline and chastisement as well as endurance 
of persecution,^^ We should expect discipline, because 
God is our Father; we should anticipate chastisement, 
because we are sinful; we should welcome persecution, 
for the honor of identifying with Christ. The Christian 
sees God's wisdom in all of this, for it is only by the 
death of the old nature that we are conformed to 
Qirist. If we are to taste of sabbath rest, radical 
surgery is necessary. Ronald Wallace observes: 

It is obvious that the phrase self-denial as it is 
used in modem speech is inadequate to describe the 
radical nature of the negative aspect of the Chris¬ 
tian life vAiich Calvin uses it to co^r.. • • Calvin 
means that the self should really be slain, done to 
death in violence as Christ ^oels done to death. 

As the Christian experiences the mortification of 
the flesh, he is led to the **meditatio futurae vitae.” 
This meditation on the future life, corresponding to the 
believer's participation in the resurrection of Christ, 
is pivotal to our sanctification. It must be practiced 
with “intensity of aim,"^l since "either the world must 
become worthless to us or hold us bound by intemperate 
love of it."^2 xhis does not entail a hatred of life or 
of God's creation, for present blessings are indeed a 
foretaste of our future felicity; it simply represents 
the prudence of the Christian as he contemplates his 
high calling, "Just as a man, when he wishes to make 
haste in any manner, would shake off from his shoulders 
a heavy and disagreeable burden. 

Most importantly, though, in this meditation the 
believer looks to heaven to behold the risen Christ, the 
pioneer of his salvation. Just as the Israelites stood 
and marvelled at their deliverance from the hand of the 
%yptians, the Christian rests as he beholds his salva¬ 
tion completed in the resurrected and ascended Christ. 
Calvin frequently quotes Colossians 3:3 to illustrate 
the intimate connection between mortification and vivi- 
fication: "For you have died and your life is hidden 
with Christ in God." It is in the nature of our redemp¬ 
tion that we must look to Christ to see its fulfill¬ 
ment,^^ and that we become partakers of righteousness in 
Christ through faith. At the heart of spiritual sabbath 
for Calvin is "allowing God to work in us," and this is 
essentially the work of faith, whereby God's promises 
are sealed in our hearts and minds by the Holy Spirit. 
Christian growth, growth in our e 2 q)erience of sabbath 
rest, is essentially a growth in faith. 

Though nothing has been said here of the place of 
the Word, the sacraments, and prayer in the believer's 
observance of the perpetual sabbath, the key points have 


62 



been made. The sabbath rest of the Christian is founded 
on the death and resurrection of Christ. Experiences 
corresponding to this in the life of the believer are 
the mortification of the flesh and the vivification of 
the spirit. These are to lead the believer to an ’’inte¬ 
grity of the heart,” an uprightness before God flowing 
from a heart in submission to the Lord's will, and to 
greater conformity with the character of Christ. The 
Heidelberg Catechism echoes these principles of mortifi¬ 
cation and vivification in words closely parallelling 
Calvin's own: ’’What does God require in the Fourth 
Commandment? ... [T]hat I may cease fran my evil works 
all the days of my life, allow the Lord to work in me 
through his Spirit, and thus begin in this life the 
eternal sabbath.”55 

For Calvin, then, sabbath rest, rather than being 
narrowly identified with observance of any particular 
day, is the undergirding principle of all Christian 
sanctification. That which the Old Testament Sabbath 
typified, Christ fulfilled by his perfect obedience. 
Just as He is the pioneer of our faith, so also is He 
the pioneer of that perfect sabbath rest toward which we 
look. Through faith in Him, we participate in that sab¬ 
bath already and look forward to the day when God will 
be ’’all in all” and we may rest from our labors. 


63 



Notes 


^ Letters of John Calvin, ed. Jules Bonnet, trans. David 
Constable, 2 vols. (Edinburgh; Thomas Constable and Co,, 1855), 2; in 
loc. 

^ The Book of Confessions , 2nd ed. (New York; The General Assembly 
of the United Presbyterian Church in the United States of America, 
1970), 4.103. 

3 Ibid., 7.060. 

^ John Calvin, The Institutes of the Christian Religion , trans. 
John Allen, 2 vols. (Philadelphia; Presbyterian Board of Ptfolication, 
1845), 1:4. 

5 John Calvin, The Institutes of the Christian Religion , ed. John 
T. McNeill, trans. Ford Lewis Battles, 2 vols. (Philadelphia; 
Westminster Press, 1960), 2;394. 

^ Ibid., p. 395, 

^ Ibid. 

® John Calvin, Commentary on Jeremiah , trans. and ed, John Owen, 5 
vols. (Grand Rapids; Eerdmans, n.d.), 2;377. 

^ John Calvin, Commentary on Isaiah , trans, William Pringle, 4 
vols. (Grand Rapids; Eerdmans, n.d.), 2;177. 

'•0 Calvin, Institutes , 1;395. 

'•1 Thus Numbers 15:32-36. 

Calvin, Commentary on Jeremiah, 2:378, 

Calvin, Commentary on Isaiah, 4:241. 

John Calvin, The Sermons of M. John Calvin Upon the Fifth Book 
of Moses Called Deuteronomie, trans. Arthur Golding (London; Henry 
Middleton, 1583), p. 207. 

^5 There have been atternpts to link Calvin's themes of 
self-renunciation and self-denial to medieval asceticism. For a 
refutation of this thesis, see Emile Doumergue's "Calvin; Epigone or 
Creator," trans. Joseph Dulles, in Calvin and the Reformation , ed. 
William Park Armstrong (Grand Rapids; Baker, n.d.), pp. 1-55. 

John Calvin, Sermons on the Ten Commandments , trans. and ed, 
Benjamin W. Farley (Grand Rapids; Baker, 1980), p. 106. 

John Calvin, Commentary on Genesis , trans. and ed. John King 
(London: Billing & Sons, 1979), p. 106. 

John Calvin, "Christ the End of the Law," trans. Thomas Weedon, 
Preface to The Geneva Bible of 155 0 (London; Henry Collins, 1848), p. 
33. 

John Calvin, Commentary on Hebrews, trans, and ed, John Owen 
(Grand Rapids; Eerdmans, 1949), p. 98. 

John Calvin, Commentary on Ezekiel , trans. Thomas Meyers, 2 
vols. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1948), 2:302. 

21 Thus especially Romans 6:1-11. 

22 John Calvin, Commentaries on the Four Last Books of Moses , 
trans. Charles William Bingham, 4 vols, (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1950), 
2:435. 

25 Calvin, Sermons on the Ten Commandments , p. 99, 

Ibid. 

25 Emphasis is the author's, to indicate that when Calvin speaks 
of "entering into" sabbath rest, he is not saying that this is 
experienced in its fullness. 

2^ Calvin, Commentary on Isaiah , 1:438. 


64 




Calvin, Institutes , 1:395, 

28 Ibid., p. 397. 

29 John Calvin, Commentary on Galatians, Ephesians, Philippians, 
and Colossians, trans, and ed. John Pringle (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 
1948), p. 193, 

^0 Calvin, Sermons on the Ten Commandments , p. 101. 

John Primus's "Calvin and the Puritan Sabbath," in Exploring 
the Heritage of John Calvin, ed. David Holwerda (Grand Rapids: Baker, 
1976), contains a fascinating study of Nicholas Bound, the first to 
publish Puritan Sabbatarian views, and his appeal to selected writings 
of Calvin. 

^2 Calvin, Commentary on Colossians, p. 192. 

Calvin, Sermons on the Ten Commandments , p. 112. 

Calvin, Sermons on Deuteronomie, p. 205. 

Calvin, Sermons on the Ten Commandments , p. 110. 

Calvin, Sermons on Deuteronomie, p. 211. 

Ibid., p. 204. 

58 Ibid. 

59 Cf. Calvin, Institutes , II.8.31. 

^8 It is interesting to note that Calvin's Deuteronomy sermons 
which particularly stress this point were preached at services of 
worship on Thursday and Friday, June 20 and 21, 1555. 

Calvin, Institutes , 1:400. 

^2 Ibid. 

^5 Calvin, Sermons on the Ten Commandments , p. 106. 

Ibid., p. 105. 

^5 Calvin, Sermons on Deuteronomie , p. 203. 

Calvin, Commentary on Hebrews, p. 99. 

Calvin, Institutes , III. 3.10. 

^8 Ibid., III.3.11. 

^9 Ibid., III.8.7. 

50 Ronald S. Wallace, Calvin's Doctrine of the Christian Life 
(London: Oliver and Boyd, 1959), p. 62. 

5'! Calvin, Commentary on Colossians, p. 206. 

52 Calvin, Institutes , II.9.2. 

53 John Calvin, Commentary on John, trans. William Pringle, 2 
vols. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1949), 2:29. 

5^ John Calvin, The Epistle to the Ephesians, revised trans. 
Banner of Truth Trust (Chatham, England: W &J Mackay, 1973), p. 34. 

55 The Book of Confessions, 4.103. 


65 




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66 





THE MEKCERSBURG THEOLOGY OF THE EUCHARIST: 

JOHN NEVIN^S THE MYSTICAL PRESENCE 
by David Thatcher 

Introduction 

In 1854 the providence of God brought together in 
a small German Reformed seminary in Mercers burg, Penn¬ 
sylvania, two as yet little-known theologians. Few 
would have guessed that John Nevin, an American Presby¬ 
terian, and Philip Schaff, fresh from studies in Ger¬ 
many, were to come together to forge an innovative the¬ 
ology that would shake the hegemony of Old Princeton. 
The "Mercersburg Theology,” which has been characterized 
as ecumenical, Christocentric, influenced by a conserva¬ 
tive Hegelianism, and with a great concern for history 
and the place of tradition, has its most important ex¬ 
pression in their understanding of the Lord’s Supper. 
It was primarily their theology of the Eucharist that 
brought them under the fire of Charles Hodge and his 
allies. 

By the mid-nineteenth century, America’s Puritan- 
derived Reformed churches had drifted far from the moor¬ 
ings of Calvin and the Reformation-era confessions con¬ 
cerning the place and significance of the Lord’s Supper; 
generally, the sacraments had been relegated to the mar¬ 
gins of theology. John Nevin wrote The Mystical Pre¬ 
sence; Reformed Doctrine of the Lord’s Supper as a 
scholarly rebuke to his brethren, urging a return to a 
high Reformed view of communion. This article will 
briefly retrace Nevin’s argument in this, his most im¬ 
portant work, and will offer an assessment of his con¬ 
clusions. 


Exposition of The Mystical Presence 

Under the rubric "Statement of Doctrine,” Nevin 
first asserts his reliance upon Calvin as prime spokes¬ 
man for the Reformed churches regarding the theology of 
the Eucharist. "Not that he is to be considered the 
creator, properly speaking, of the doctrine,” Nevin em¬ 
phasizes, for "it grew evidently out of the general re¬ 
ligious life of the Church itself. 

Nevin notes the relationship between one’s concept 
of the Eucharist and one’s understanding of the nature 
of the union between Christ and his Body, the Church. 
The nature of that union "determine[s] the form of [the 
believer’s] communion with the Savior in the ... Supper 
as the central representation of its significance and 
power.Therefore, "nothing less than such a real par¬ 
ticipation of Christ’s living person is involved always 
in ... the Lord’s Supper."^ 

Nevin proceeds to distinguish his doctrine of the 
Supper from rationalism (his term for Zwinglian memor- 
ialism) on the one hand, and from Romanism and Eutheran- 


67 


ism on the other. Against rationalism he makes four 
points: first, the union or commonality of Christ with 
his Church is not merely ’’that of a common humanity, as 
derived from Adam”;^ second, this union entails more 
than moral union or agreement—though such agreement 
certainly exists, it is based upon a deep sharing in the 
very life of Christ on the part of his people; third, it 
is more than a mere legal imputation of Christ's merits 
whereby we are saved, for salvation again is based on 
the actual union of the believer with Christ; fourth, 
the union we experience particularly in the Lord’s Sup¬ 
per is not commonality with Christ’s divine nature only, 
for Christ is one theanthropic person, and it is this 
whole person—both God and man—to whom we are joined* 

Nevin differentiates his statement of the doctrine 
from Romanism as well* He attacks the doctrine of 
transubstantiation, declaring that it was ’’rejected [by 
the Reformers] as a gross superstition, even by the 
Lutheran Church. "5 At the same time, Nevin distin¬ 
guishes his view—and that of Calvin—from the Lutheran 
doctrine of consubstantiation, Nevin makes it clear 
that ’’the Reformed Church taught that the participation 
in Christ’s flesh and blood is spiritual only, and in no 
sense corporeal* The idea of a local presence *•* was 
utterly rejected,"^ it is in reference to the Lutheran 
doctrine of the Rucharist that Nevin makes an interest¬ 
ing distinction between a ’’real” physical presence and a 
"real” (or objective) spiritual presence* While it is 
true that our participation or unity with Christ is with 
his whole person, and therefore includes ’’the very life 
and blood of Christ,” Nevin asserts that this participa¬ 
tion is With "the living energy, the vivific virtiie *** 
of Christ’s flesh," not with the flesh itself* Thus, we 
participate in Christ’s humanity insofar as we receive 
the animating power of Christ’s glorified humanity*^ It 
is by means of this objective communication, Nevin 
holds, that the believer becomes ’’one with Christ him¬ 
self, and thus more and more an heir of the same immor¬ 
tality that is brought to light in his person*”® The 
sacrament is more than a bare sign or commemoration 
resting on the subjective experience of the believer* 

Nevin then confronts a central historical problem— 
the Reformed churches’ abandonment, under the Influence 
of American Puritanism, of the Calvinistic doctrine of 
the Eucharist, and consequent de-emphasis of the role of 
this "ordinance” in the life of the Church* Against his 
critics, he insists that the differences between these 
two views run very deep* 

In the first place, while memorialism insists that 
communion should not be emphasized over the other ordin¬ 
ances of Christ, and argues that the ^irit uses them 
all equally as diverse means of the same grace, "the Old 
Reformed view” taught that "the Supper is taken to be 
speciflc in its nature, and different from all that has 


68 



place in the common exercises of worship, ”9 it is 
unique as a means of grace in that it imparts the very 
life of Christ to the believing partaker. 

Secondly, expositing Calvin, Nevin points out that 
the "sacramental transaction" of the hucharist is a 
supernatural event. The reception of Christ in commun¬ 
ion is a profound mystery. In contrast, in the ration¬ 
alist/memorialist view, the Lord*s Supper—as a commem¬ 
oration—is no more miraculous or mysterious than "a 
common Fourth of July celebration,"^^ 

Thirdly, Nevin cites the evidence for the Old Ke- 
formed view that the Lord’s Supper has "objective force" 
or reality against theologians who hold that the only 
importance of the Supper is as a symbolic reaffirmation 
of the New Covenant.Nevin presents extensive docu¬ 
mentation for this, quoting not only Calvin but also 
Beza and Farel, Ursinus, Owen, the Old Scots* Confession 
and the Belgic Confession, 

Fourthly, Nevin notes that the Keformers had taught 
that this sacrament involves, in addition to the simple 
sharing in his benefits for which memorialists had al¬ 
lowed, "a real participation in [Christ’s] person. 
Again basing his argument on such classic Reformed docu¬ 
ments as the Heidelberg Catechism, the Gallic Confes¬ 
sion, and the Westminster Confession, Nevin sets forth 
the link between the sacraments and soteriology: salva¬ 
tion itself is based u^on this "actual union between 
Christ and his people. 

Lastly, Nevin argues that the Old Reformed view in¬ 
structed that the Lord’s Supper unites the believer with 
Christ’s glorified humanity—the Word made flesh—^and 
that we "take into us the substance of what he was as 
man. "1^ Memorialists had discounted any such communion 
as "semi-popish mysticism," and felt that here even Cal¬ 
vin must have been confused. 

In the second major division of The Mystical Pre¬ 
sence Nevin attempts to formulate his doctrine in a sys¬ 
tematic manner, summing up (and often reiterating) what 
he has already said. First Nevin attempts to correct 
what he believes are deficiencies in Calvin’s psychology 
which touch on this doctrine (though upon further inves¬ 
tigation, Nevin concedes that Calvin requires less cor¬ 
recting than he had originally thought). Briefly, Nevin 
states that: (1) Calvin did not make a clear enough dis¬ 
tinction between "the idea of the organic law [or ani¬ 
mating life-force] which properly constitutes the proper 
identity of a human body, and the material volume it is 
foimd to embrace as exhibited to the senses"(2) Cal¬ 
vin was not rigorous enough in insisting upon the abso¬ 
lute unity of the theanthropic person of Christ; and (3) 
Calvin failed to distinguish clearly between "the indi¬ 
vidual personal life of Christ" (in his local presence 
at the right hand of the Father) and "the same life in a 
generic view" as the Second Adam who is the sources of a 


b9 



redeemed and glorified humanity’s life. 

In conclusion, Nevin summarizes his doctrine of 
the "Mystical Union" and the Lord’s Supper in 27 theses, 
condensed as follows: 

1. All men became sinful with Adam’s rebellion, and 
this "sin nature" is both universal and organic, handed 
on from parent to child. 

2. Men are radically depraved, being stained by sin 
in all facets of their natxire. 

3. Through the incarnation and hypostatic union, 
human nature was exalted to "imperishable divine 
life." 

4. The atonement’s value is based upon this real 
incarnational union. 

5. Salvation is derived from sharing in Christ’s 

life. 

6. This redeeming life-force of Christ is human as 
well as divine. 

7. This life of Christ is genetically embodied in 
the Church, his Body. 

8. We his Body are organically one with Christ. 2Q 
The Church’s relationship to Christ is stronger 

and more intimate than its generic relationship to Adam. 

10. This mystical union must involve the entire be¬ 
ing of Christ, human as well as divine. 

11. Consequently man’s whole being as well is in¬ 
volved in the mystical union. 

12. Therefore the unity of man’s person, body and 
soul, is saved in this one process. 

13. But this does not imply consubstantiation. 

14. And this mystical union does not imply that the 
Church is a pantheistic Christ. 

13. This union is greater in reality than any other 
worldly union. 

16. The Holy ^irit is the means of this mystical 
union. 

17. This participation in Christ’s life is only by 
faith. 

18. life in this union is experienced as a process 
climaxing in the resurrection.^^ 

19. Christ himself is applied to believers in the 
Eucharist. 

20. In the Lord’s Supper believers partake of 
Christ’s actual humanity and thus his benefits. 

21. The Eucharist primarily involves the atonement 
as basis for life. 

22. The Supper "involves a real communication with 

o c 

the person of Christ. 

23. The life communicated in the Eucharist is of 
Christ’s whole person. 

24. Christ is communicated in the Eucharist "under 
the form” of the sacramental mystery. 

25. This sacramental communication occurs spir¬ 
itually in man’s core. 


70 



26. This communication occurs only in Chistians. 

27. This doctrine precludes transubstantiation and 
cons libs tantiat ion. 


Evaluation 

Nevin and the Mercersburg school made a number of 
positive contributions to American evangelicalism. The 
Mystical Presence supplied a corrective to the ahistori- 
cal and anti~sacramental bias of much of American Prot¬ 
estantism and pointed the way to a more balanced empha¬ 
sis upon the importance of the Eucharist in the thought 
and life of the Church. The rationalistic secularism of 
the Enlightenment, which had taken its toll on the or¬ 
thodoxy of New England by stripping the Lord's Supper of 
its sacramental force, Nevin rightly saw as a deadly 
threat to the Faith. 

Nevin's work properly focuses upon the significance 
and centrality of Christ in the salvation and ongoing 
life of the believer. Christ is truly the ground and 
source of the new life and order of the universe, and 
the believer must participate in his person in order to 
share in his benefits and thus to taste of that life. 
The grace of Christ is not some undifferentiated paste 
to be squeezed from a tube and daubed on our spiritual 
wounds; in Scripture Christ's grace is bound up with his 
presence—and the Lord did promise his presence in the 
Supper. In contrast to Charles Hodge and Old Princeton, 
with their stress on the divine decrees, Nevin contri¬ 
buted to a more vital and Christocentric understanding 
of God's grace. 

Just as Augustine had drawn from Plato, just as 
Aquinas had made use of Aristotle, Nevin utilized the 
philosophical categories and concepts of Hegel. Hegel's 
organic historicism provided Nevin with some powerful 
metaphors for understanding the nature of salvation, of 
the Church as the Body of Christ, and of the believer's 
participation in the life-force of Christ's glorified 
humanity in the Eucharist. While adhering to the au¬ 
thority of Scripture and drawing from the insights of 
Church history and tradition, Nevin was willing to inno¬ 
vate and adopt new formulations Where they might shed 
additional light on the data of Scripture. This is not 
to say that Nevin wished to discard or demean tradition; 
his purpose was, in fact, to lend it fresh force by the 
use of relevant contemporary categories. This willing¬ 
ness to break new theological ground stands in stark 
contrast to Charles Hodge's infamous dictum that nothing 
new would ever come out of Princeton. Nevin's openness 
to modern perspectives, in conjunction with his fidelity 
to Scripture and tradition, gave the Mercersburg the¬ 
ology its unique power. 

Similarly, Nevin demonstrated a concern for the in¬ 
sights of science, and in particular the budding disci- 


71 



pline of psychology. Nevin went so far as even to cor¬ 
rect Calvin, upon whom he most relied for his argument, 
when Nevin believed that he failed to stress the unity 
of the person adequately. Nevin was adamant in this 
matter, continually reiterating his conviction that man 
is a body-soul unity, and this focus upon the oneness 
and wholeness of the person carries over into his Chris- 
tology: Christ is most emphatically both God and glori¬ 
fied man. Nevin*s attempt at integrating the conclu¬ 
sions of the science of his day with the Biblical record 
and with tradition, the first of many efforts by theolo¬ 
gians to come to terms with psychology, was indeed a 
valuable example for American theology. 

One of the immediate benefits of Nevin’s work for 
American Christianity was a renewed interest in the 
study of Church history and historical theology. If the 
Princeton theologians were to be able to answer Nevin, 
they would have to grapple with their historical roots. 
It is evident from Nevin*s documentation that America’s 
Reformed churches were not even in touch with the asser¬ 
tions of their own catechisms and confessions, much less 
Calvin’s teaching on the sacraments. Nevin’s challenge 
forced many to rediscover their Protestant heritage. 

On the other hand, Nevin’s understanding of the Eu¬ 
charist in The Mystical Presence is not without its 
problems. Perhaps the most glaring deficiency in Ke¬ 
vin’s theology is its neglect of the Reformed under¬ 
standing of the centrality of the Word in the Eucharis¬ 
tic experience. Nevin’s theology could be construed as 
threatening an unbalanced mysticism, though he took 
great pains to ward off just such an outcome. Another 
problem is that, in taking a polemical approach to cor¬ 
recting the anti-sacramental ism of his day, Nevin 
endangered the unity of his own confession and denomina¬ 
tion. Nevin was deeply disturbed by anything that might 
contribute to sectarianism, yet in his own way he added 
fuel to the fires of division he so abhorred: for years 
churches in the Reformed tradition were to quarrel over 
sacramental theology. 


Conclusion 

The Mercersburg theology, as represented in The 
Mystical Presence , stands among the great expressions of 
American Protestantism. In many ways it was ahead of 
its time—it is perhaps for this reason that it found no 
more support than it did. Evangelicals in the Reformed 
tradition who find the generic Zwinglianism prevailing 
today dry and unrewarding might do well to look to John 
Nevin for a constructive alternative. 


72 



Nott 


^ John Williamson Nevin, The Mystical Presence: Reformed Doctrine 
of the Lord*s Supper, in The Mercersburq Theology, ed. James Hastings 
Nichols (New York: Oxford University Press, 1966), p, 200. 

^ Ibid., p. 201. 

’ Ibid. 

* Ibid. 

5 Ibid., p. 204. 

^ Ibid., p. 20S. 

^ Ibid., pp. 205-7. 

^ Ibid., p. 206. 

9 Ibid., p. 207. 

Ibid., p. 209. 

Ibid., p. 210. 

12 Ibid., p. 212. 

13 Ibid. 

1* Ibid., p. 214. 

15 Ibid., p. 217. 

1^ Ibid., p. 220. 

12 Ibid., p. 223. 

1® Ibid., p. 225. 

15 Ibid., p. 226. 

2® Ibid., p. 228. 

21 Ibid., p. 233. 

22 Ibid., p. 234. 

23 Ibid., p. 236. 

2* Ibid., p. 238. 

25 Ibid., p. 241. 

26 Ibid., p. 239. 


73 




JOm KEBLE AND THE CHRISTIAN YEAR: 

AN INQUIRY INTO THE BOLE OF THE ARCS 
IN THE mmiAL OF THE CHURCH 
By Da^d Currie 

historically, the relationship between vital Chris¬ 
tianity and the arts has been ambivalent at best and of¬ 
ten openly hostile. Augustine and Jerome's love/hate 
relationship with Classical Greek and Roman literature 
on the one hand, and Tertullian's outright condemnation 
of the theater on the other, have defined the spectrum 
of Christian attitudes through the ages. The issue has 
been rendered more problematic for Evangelicals and 
others who have sought the renewal of the Church by the 
common conjunction of spiritual decline and artistic pa¬ 
tronage even within Christendom (prime examples are the 
i4edieval papacy and the Italian Renaissance), as well as 
by the non-Christian ideologies expressed by many ar¬ 
tists, past and present. Yet nothing intrinsic to the 
arts or to Christianity necessitates this clash. Vital 
renewal movements have regularly called forth great ar¬ 
tists—Duerer and Bach, the Wesleys, and William Cowper 
come to mind—who have powerfully esipressed the new life 
in Christ through their art and greatly enriched the 
Church's worship. Nonetheless, too often the arts have 
suffered at the hands of Christians; they have been ne¬ 
glected, or at best trivialized as an expedient to some 
evangelistic or devotional end—"plastic Jesus. '* In 
this view, the arts are not seen as spiritually "produc¬ 
tive" in themselves; naturally, they pale in importance 
when compared to proclamation. Such abuse and misunder¬ 
standing has often yielded the arts to humanists by de¬ 
fault. This is unfortunate, for continued failure to 
incorporate meaningful artistic expression into our own 
efforts will severely limit our effectiveness as we seek 
the renewal of the Church in our day. 

One shining exception to the pattern of trivializa- 
tion and neglect of the arts which has typified most ef¬ 
forts at church renewal is found in the Oxford Movement, 
the "Anglo-Catholic" reform party which emerged within 
nineteenth-century Anglicanism. Few renewal movements 
have been so closely identified with the arts from their 
inception as were these "Tractarians." Many of their 
leaders (Keble, Newman, Williams) were poets known as 
much for their literary output as for their theological 
efforts—and it was precisely in their poems that they 
were able to reach beyond the intelligentsia to touch 
the masses. E.A. Knox notes: "More effective as Trac- 
tarian propaganda than either its Tracts or Sermons was 
its Poetry, and especially The Christian Year. "^ With¬ 
out question John Keble's The Christian Year was the 
most influential work produced by those associated with 
the Oxford Movement, both in terms of its tremendous 
popularity and in terms of its effect on the development 


74 




of the Movement as a whole. Although few today are 
familiar with The Christian Year» events which led to 
its publication and its subsequent impact on the Church 
of England can shed much light on the question of the 
role the arts can play in church renewal. 

There was nothing about the earliest of these poems 
which might have hinted at their future popularity or 
the role they were to play in the formation of the Ox¬ 
ford Movement. J.T. Coleridge, a close friend of Keble 
and the author of his memoirs, places their composition 
in the summers of 1819 and 1822, on the basis of Cole¬ 
ridge's own manuscript of The Christian Year , which as¬ 
signs dates to the poems. ^ During these summers Keble 
made several solitary visits to the coiintry which af¬ 
forded him the leisure and the inspiration for 
composition. These early poems did not originate as 
part of any scheme: like many educated men of his time, 
Keble simply wrote poetry for his own enjoyment.^ 

Between 1823 and 1825 Keble began to circulate some 
of these poems among his friends for their criticism. 
The first recorded response was in a letter from Thomas 
Arnold to Coleridge, dated March 3, 1823: 

I do not kiotf ^liether you have ever seen John 
Keble's liynns. He has bitten a great nuoaber for 
most of the holidays, and several of the Smdays in 
the >ear, and 1 believe intends to coDplete the 
series. It is ny film belief that nothing equal to 
them exists in our lapguage; the w>ndeifuL 
]aiaalsdg^ c£ Scriptire, the purity of heart, and 
the richness of poetxy \liLdi they esdiibit, I never 
saw paralleled. If they are not piblished, it will 
be a great neglect of doing good.^ 

This letter is significant to an understanding of the 
development of The Christian Year for two reasons. 
First, it shows that Keble had already moved beyond sim¬ 
ply writing miscellaneous poems: he had begun to adapt 
his earlier efforts to the structure of the Prayer Book 
and was beginning to write new verse to form a cohesive 
whole. Coleridge relates that Keble's Imspiration for 
the scheme of the work came from a collection of sermons 
by John Miller, A Christian Guide for Plain People. ^ 
Doubtless this approach was also prompted by Keble's own 
personal devotion to the Prayer Book, already clear in 
his earliest poems. Second, Arnold's letter foretells 
the wide appeal which The Christian Year was to have 
among many who were not themselves High Churchmen: 
Arnold went on to lead liberal opposition to the Oxford 
Movement, nor was he a friend of the Prayer Book. 

Such response apparently encouraged Keble to pursue 
the project; he even began to contemplate posthumous 
publication. Again he sought his friends' advice—^yet, 
though they urged him to publish, still he hesitated. 


75 



Several letters reveal the sources of his reluctance. 
On March 5, 1825, he wrote to Coleridge: 

they are all gone to bed, I will tell you a 
secret; is that after all badc^rdness 

(v^ch 1 sqppose ^s chiefly affectation) on such 
sibjects, 1 an in fair v«iy to cxxonenoe author— 

'only thliic,* as ELlison says-4fr. JereniLah I^son, 
whose opinion on such a matter I take to be as safe 
as aiybocfy’s can be, strongly reconBEiKb me to pub¬ 
lish some of the hyms y3u w>t of. It is against 
original plan, vhich «as to cooplete the series 
if 1 could, go on inprovLng it all ny life, and 
leaje it to come out, if judged useful, when I 
shall be fairly out of the way; and this is stUl 
ay favourite plan—only I m afraid I aoi in a way 
of beiig persuaded out of it. ib give me your conr 
siderate, and not partial opinion, itdilch way would 
answer best—for indeed the matter is too serious 
to band/ compliments uiion—that is to say, if it is 
worth thirking of at all.^ 

To Dyson he wrote on April 1, 1825: 

I an very much obliged to you for your kind inten¬ 
tions with re^rd to the MS. I shall oertain^ 
pump you for more criticlan, ^ther aiythiiig cxse 
of the printing scheme or no. Ihe more X thiik of 
it, the more ay fancy would lead ae to wait till it 
might be posthunous. But I must see what Johoty 
Davison says—sent him most cof them—leaviig 
out some \hich I thiik paltry, and others ^ch 
cone, as it were, tcoo near home for me to like to 
shea them auch—some also on accoount cof their goipg 
rather more than aiL^t be approved of upon that no¬ 
tion of decsy in the Church, which y>u loiaw I have 
for some time entertained. It seaned to me that 
this had better be established in prose first; 
without somethiig of that sort, the bynns of which 
1 speak would be hardly intelligible to most 

readers. 7 

In addition to Keble's modesty, these letters reveal his 
fear that, were his poems to be widely circulated^ their 
criticism of conditions in the Church of England might 
be aiisunderstood. ^ Clearly, however, he no longer view- 
ed his poems as simply a private expression of his per¬ 
sonal feelings: his latest efforts were intended just as 
much to address the problems he saw in the Church. 

Keble*s letters to John Davison suggest another 
reason for his eventual agreement to allow publication: 
some of his poems were beginning to circulate in unauth¬ 
orized editions. 


76 



1 bs^e got a few attempts at h^ons by me, 1 

have frcm tine to time written, principally for 
(Ml relief in the many boors 1 spend.... ^ plan 
was to have one, if I could, for every Stnd^ and 
holiday in the jear: taking the hint for the sub¬ 
ject of each from something or other in the proper 
Psalms or lessons of the day • •. but so maty copies 
have been aUoued to be taken, principally by 
f zleadB of ny sisters, that it seems in some degree 
broken in upon: and one has been printed in a col¬ 
lection by Wt. J. Marriott, without ny knowled^. ^ 

This letter again emphasizes that even those later poems 
which Keble had written to conform to the Prayer Book 
were not merely vehicles for propaganda, but originated 
in his own personal struggles, "principally for my own 
relief. However, Keble's reply on May 28, 1825, to 

Davison's response shows that the cumulative weight of 
his friends' pressure was changing his mind on the ques¬ 
tion of publication: "So upon the whole I think I have 
made up my mind to follow your advice and that of some 
others of my friends, and print at least a selection, in 
the most useful plainest way that I can.''^^ Neverthe¬ 
less, The Christian Year was not to appear for another 
two years. 

Not all of Keble's friends were taken with his 
poems: perhaps this was another reason for his delay. 
Hurrell Froude wrote a very critical letter to Keble af¬ 
ter reading some of them: 

You seem to me to have addressed yourself too ex¬ 
clusively to plain matter-of-fact good sort of 
people • •. and not to have taken much pains to in¬ 
terest and guide the feeling c£ people ^dx> feel 
acutely.••• Ihere is scxnethipg which 1 should call 
Sternhold-and-Hopkinsky in the diction. 

Keble's response on September 26, 1825, shows that he 

t<x> recognized the deficiencies of his poetry, but, un¬ 
like Froude, he felt that if it spoke to ordinary 
people, that was sufficient justification for its publi¬ 
cation. 


... [IMs is] to thank y)u very much for the 
trouble >du have taken about ... [my poans], and 
still more for y>ur telling me exactly what y)u 
thick of them; for I shall hold you in greater 
honour as long as 1 live. For to say the truth, I 
look upon tboroM^ honesty in this kind to be a 
rare thiqg in critic-land. I an not so partial to 
my own crockery, as not to be myself auare of the 
want of poetlckl depth, and fervour, wcH disquali¬ 
fies maty or most of them frcm being of mauch use to 
imaginative people; but if they only serve as helps 


77 



to the memoiy of plain, good sort of peq>le, that 
is in mind use enou^; provided they do no haxm 
by being uitrue or obtrusive, of last I an a 
little afraid. A: aiy rate I mean to take plenty 
of time, to make out the ecclesiastical >ear, if I 
can, before 1 pvblish; and 1 feel as if this w>uld 
take up ny life. It v^ould be a great delict to do 
something, might be of use to the sort of per¬ 
sons you mention: but that must be left for some 
one who can do it—and probably whenever it is 
done, it will be done by someboc^ never thov^t 
of it himself, but merely wrote to relieve his own 
mind. Indeed, that was the original ptcpose of 
what y3u have seen, and so far it has pro\^ very 
useful; but there is no making a silk pirse out of 
a sow’s ear—a foolish figure, but fareiell that. 

Froude himself remained unconvinced by this response and 
seems never to have approved of the popular flavor of 
Keble’s poety—^he remarked, “People will take Keble for 
a Methodist. Likewise, Isaac Williams was not very 
enthusiastic when Keble showed him his poetry “written 
out in small red books. “ Williams candidly remarked 
that he “read it a good deal, but did not much enter 
into it."15 

Keble seems to have procrastinated for over a year 
following the mixed reviews he received from his 
friends. However, a letter to Coleridge in January, 
1827, indicates that, far from having forgotten about 
his poems, he was busy revising them. “If the thing is 
to be done, I might as well set about it now as I am 
never likely to have more leisure, and I am much afraid 
my poetic powers, such as they are, grow stiffer and 
stiffer every day."l^ In a letter written to Coleridge 
on February 9, 1827, Keble indicates the consideration 

that finally persuaded him to see his poems published: 

Maw I must thaik you with all my ml^t for the vexy 
kind trouble you have taken about my conoems; you 
have set to woxk like a true friend, and I shall 
always lovs you the better for it, only I am afraid 
you have been takipg a good deal more troible than 
the affair was worth. I have set myself at woik 
rather hardish to revise the MS., and have made a 
good maiy corrections; one or tsK) I hope to rer- 
write entirely; and I also want to add somethiig on 
each of the 'Occasional Services,' in pirsuanoe of 
a hint 1 had from Davison. I have done a tea stan¬ 
zas for the CoanuiloQ, and if I have a good spriqg- 
flow of rhyme, I hcpe to be reac^ with the others, 
as far as the CGominatlon, in a month or six weeks, 
and then I pixpose to go ip to Oxford, and print 
without delay. I had wished to put it off for a 
year for the sake of the vignettes, but my father 


78 



seeoB really ansdous to have It done without loss 
o£ tiioe, and 1 thiik one should be uicoiifortable, 
i£ one did not tiy one's best to neet his wishes; 
at the saaoe time, I am quite aware of the defects 
you nentioa, and will do vay best to mend tham. 

The Christian Year finally came off the presses in 
June, 1827. In the Advertisement, dated May 30, 1827, 
Keble expressed some of his motivations for publishing 
the book: 

Next to a sound rule of faith, there is nothlig of 
so mich consequenoe as a sober standard of feeUqg 
in matters of practical religion: and it is the 
peculiar h^iness of the Church of England to pos¬ 
sess, in her authorized formularies, an anple and 
seoire provision for both. Jciut in some times of 
nuch leisure and unbounded curiosit/, when excite¬ 
ment of this kind is sou^t after with a morbid 
e^mess, this part of the merit of our liturgy is 
likely in some measure to be lost on mai^ even of 
its sincere adnirers: the 'very teoDpers \iiich most 
require such dlscipLine settii^ themselves, in gen¬ 
eral, most decidedly against it. Ihe object of the 
present publication will be attained, if aiy person 
find assistance from it in bripglng his cun 
thou^ts and feellqgs into more entice unison with 
those reconaended and exaqplified in the Bcayer 
Bock. Ihe work does not furnish a complete series 
of oGnpositions; beiqg, in macy parts, rather 
adapted with more or less propriety to the succes¬ 
sive portions of the liturgy than originally sig- 
gested ty them. Somethiqg has been added at the 
end oonoemiqg the several Occasional Services: 
which constitute, from their personal and domestic 
nature, the most perfect instance of that soothing 
tendency in the Prayer Book, \*iich it is the chief 
purpose of these pages to ediibit. 

Pastoral concerns seem foremost here. Keble saw the 
need for sober piety in the face of the widespread li¬ 
cense decried by all the Tractarians; he sought to meet 
this need by buiilding a bridge to the Prayer Book 
through his poems. Nor was Keble's concern limited to 
individuals: it encompassed the whole Church of Eng¬ 
land. A later comment in a letter to an Anglican digni¬ 
tary notes this wider application: "You know the 'C.Y.* 
(as far as I remember it) everywhere supposes the Church 
to be in a state of decay. Coleridge comments that 

Keble himself, for all his humiility, saw The Christian 
Year chiefly as a response to this decay: "He seemed to 
me not unconscious of the merits of the book or of its 
probable usefulness. 

In short, while The Christian Year originated as an 


79 




expression of Keble’s devotional life and artistic abil¬ 
ity, it received its final form and publication in re¬ 
sponse to the problems Keble observed in the contempo¬ 
rary Church, especially its shallow piety and lade of 
reverence, both individual and corporate. The most im¬ 
mediate response he desired was that people should come 
to a new appreciation for the Prayer Book: they would 
have to follow it to understand the poems, and the poems 
in turn WDuld lead them to a deeper understanding of the 
Prayer Book. The Christian Year is a product of neither 
artistic e^qpression nor pastoral (some might say propa¬ 
gandist) concern alone, but of both, fusing the artistic 
and the pastoral. The occasion for its publication may 
have been his father's request, but Keble's motives for 
its content were derived nonetheless from this combina¬ 
tion of personal piety and concern for the plight of the 
Church of England. 

Neither Keble nor even those of his friends who 
liked the poems had ejected The Christian Year to be so 
overwhelmingly popular as it proved to be. Keble him¬ 
self had been qxilte pessimistic about its prospects. He 
commented to Williams as they came out of the printer's 
office together: **It will be still-born, I Imow very 
well; but it is only in obedience to my father's wishes 
that I publish it, and that is some comfort. ”^0 Little 
did Keble realize that in a matter of weeks his publish¬ 
er would write to him suggesting that a second, larger 
edition be published because he could not satisfy the 
demand for the first, ”so rapidly has The Christian Year 
made its way into the world. The first edition num¬ 
bered 500 copies, the second (November, 1827) 730, and 
the third (March, 1828) 1,250. Its popularity continued 
unabated throughout Keble's lifetime and beyond, as the 
following figures covering the period of its copyright 
show: 22 


The Christian Year 
Publication Summary 
Editions 


From 1827 to end of 1837 16 

From 1838 to end of 1847 17 

From 1848 to end of 1857 19 

From 1858 to end of 1867 60 

From 1868 to i^ril, 1873 31 

Total 140 


Total Copies 

26.500 
39,000 
63,000 

119.500 

57.500 

305.500 


The figures certainly indicate that The Christian 
Year was being read by more than just High Church Angli¬ 
cans. As Froude's remarks suggest, the volume was very 
popular among Evangelicals both within and outside the 
Church of England who recognized a kindred piety. For 
example. Canon Tristram, a well-known Evangelical di¬ 
vine, presented each of his children with a copy on 
their confirmation. 2^ Broad Churchmen such as Arnold 
also appreciated it—even after he and Keble had a fall- 


80 



ing-out, Arnold continued to use its verses in his fami¬ 
ly devotions. 24 Even Dissenters read it with apprecia¬ 
tion. Joseph Henry Shorthouse, a widely-read author, 
had a special attachment to it in his Quaker youth. 
When as an adult he became blind in one eye, he returned 
to Keble's verse, saying, "I want to know the hymns by 
heart, so that if I lose my left eye I shall have them 
still. ”25 The only groups which showed little syii?)athy 
were Roman Catholics and extreme Evangelicals, both on 
doctrinal grounds. 

Contrary to Froude*s fears. The Christian Year was 
well received, not just among the common people, but in 
intellectual and literary circles as well. Keble’s sis¬ 
ter Elizabeth remarked soon after it was published: "The 
commendation, from all the very choicest people, is so 
great as to satisfy even our voracious appetite."2^ 
Isaac Williams lent his copy to some acquaintances in 
his boarding-house to read aloud on a rainy day and was 
delighted when they told him they preferred Keble to 
Byron, whom they had been reading earlier. 27 Still, not 
all literary figures praised The Christian Year . Walter 
Bagehot called it: "Wordsworth translated for women.”2^ 
Wordsworth himself, on the other hand, while critical of 
its rhythm, meter, and language, on the whole rather 
liked it. He remarked: "It is very good; so good, that 
if it were mine, I would write it all over again. "2^ 
The Christian Year ’s greatest literary influence was 
probably upon Charlotte Younge, one of Keble’s parish¬ 
ioners. Not only did she write a book of comments upon 
it, but she developed into a highly successful author in 
her own right who championed Tractarian principles in 
her novels. 

Nor was the success of The Christian Year limited 
to England alone. The first American edition was pub¬ 
lished in July, 1834.50 xhe Bishop of New Jersey, who 
was later to visit Keble in England, helped sponsor an 
edition which, unbeknownst to him, was pirated. Keble 
is known to have corresponded with many Americans who 
had come to know of him through The Christian Year. 
Keble’s fame likewise spread throughout the British Em¬ 
pire: he received commendatory letters from Bishop 
Fredericton of Canada, Bishop Selw 3 m of New Zealand, and 
Bishop Patteson of Melanesia.51 

The popularity of The Christian Year was reflected 
in its impact on the spiritual life of the Church of 
England. Its most immediate effect upon parish life was 
precisely what Keble had desired —a new appreciation for 
the depth and beauty of the Prayer Book. Practically, 
it restored the liturgical calendar to respectability. 
Kenneth Ingram notes, "The processions of seasons and 
festivals had during the prosaic reign of the eighteenth 
century almost been forgotten. "^2 William Temple com¬ 
mented in his introduction to an 1875 edition of The 
Christian Year that it was "... the first to rescue the 


81 



Prayer Book and the Church services from the charges of 
formalism, under which they lay, to prove their powers 
of adaptation to modern wants, to bring to light the un¬ 
dercurrent of devotion and sympathetic helpfulness which 
pervades them.”^^ 

The lectionary scheme which Keble adopted promoted 
Scripture reading as well: since many of his poems drew 
their imagery from the daily readings, they drove the 
reader to Scripture to understand them more fully.3^ 
Coleridge recounts an amusing variation: 

I have heard of a cleigynan in a rural parish in 
Worcestershire vto ^s in the habit of readiog, and 
e^lainipg fron the pidpit, in lieu of an afternoon 
semoon, the poem for the Suiday; and 1 have no 
doubt such a practice, with proper comoents, mL^t 
be pursued with very good effect. 

Beyond its widespread popularity among various par¬ 
ties, The Christian Year obviously appealed especially 
to the traditional High Church party within the Church 
of England. Indeed, Keble*8 poetry helped lay the 
foundations of the Oxford Movement. To those who loved 
the Prayer Book, The Christian Year was not so much a 
consolation as a call to arms in defense of their cwn 
distinctive spirituality. It not only shook this slum¬ 
bering group awake but created widespread sympathy for 
their ideas.Keble's newly-acquired international re¬ 
putation ensured that when in 1833 he delivered his 
famous sermon, "National Apostacy," generally cited as 
inaugurating the Oxford Movement, he was heard, not as 
just another High Churchman railing against the State 
(even though his message contained little of substance 
that was new), but as a respected poet nmn of 
well-known piety. His name was to lend the Tractarian 
party legitimacy in the eyes of many.^® 

The Christian Year brought together around Keble 
the young men who would one day lead the Oxford Move¬ 
ment. Pusey noted this effect in later comments on a 
projected history of the Movement: 

The central figure should be John Keble. I should 
be glad to see it broq^t out for John Keble was a 
mainspring. He published Ihe Christian Ifear ^ten 
Novnan was first eoaergLng froa Evangelicaliaoi, and 
I ms busy with Arabic in the hcpe of counteract¬ 
ing, with Gbd's heJp, Geman ratlonalian in the Old 
Testanent. 


Pusey*s letters immediately following the publication of 
The Christian Year reflect its impact on him in count- 
less references. Newman described the poems as "quite 
exquisite" when he first read them.^^ Later, in his 
Apologia , he reflected upon what he had learned: 


82 



• •• [T]he tMo naln intellectual truths It brou^t 
hone to me, \iiere the saoie two, \ijhlch 1 had learned 
frcm Butler, thoM^i recast in the creative mind of 
09 / naster. Ihe first of these \£ls my be 
called, in a large sense of the w^rd, the Sacra- 
mental systan; that is, the doctrine that material 
phencmena are both types and the instrments of 
real thipgs inseen.... [T]he seoood intellectual 
principle ••• [iNas] that probability is the gnide 
of 

Richard Church, who went on to become a leader and his¬ 
torian of the Oxford Movement in its later stages, noted 
that his first exposure to "i^ostolical views" came with 
his reading of The Christian Year* ^^ 

The reasons for The Christian Year *s popularity and 
wide impact may not be entirely clear to the modern 
reader.The obvious brilliance of the writing does 
not seem sufficient cause: Keble*s other major work of 
poetry, Lyra Innocentium (1846), though considered su¬ 
perior to The Christian Year by many critics, never ap¬ 
proached its popularity even during Keble*s lifetime. A 
more likely explanation is that The Christian Year ad¬ 
dressed the problems of the contemporary Church in a way 
accessible to almost everyone—for, while historians 
disagree as to the health of the Church in Keble’s day, 
all agree that contemporaries of every party themselves 
perceived a host of problems. Richard Church identifies 
both internal decay and external attack as sources of 
difficulty. The general standard of piety of the clergy 
had declined into "quiet worldliness,and Church 
notes that this declension typified not only "the 
orthodox Churchmen, whom their rivals, and not their 
rivals only, denounced as dry, unspiritual, formal, un- 
evangelical, self-righteous teachers of mere morality at 
their best, allies and servants of the world at their 
worst,but also those Evangelicals whose vitality had 
waned as their popularity had waxed. "Preached in the 
pulpits of fashionable chapels, ... [these men’s] reli¬ 
gion proved no more exacting than its ’High and Dry’ 
rival.Externally, rationalist skeptics criticized 
the Church’s beliefs and practices, and Bentham’s utili¬ 
tarianism had strongly influenced many critics of the 
Church.^® The Christian Year ’s strong e^qpression of 
vital Christian piety was one response to this perceived 
decline of spirituality. Many found in Keble the sensi¬ 
tive pastor their parishes too often lacked. His piety, 
expressed so eloquently in his poetry, convinced many 
that a religion of common sense was not enough. Keble’s 
images, both Scriptural and domestic, evoked deep feel¬ 
ings and offered an alternative to the shallowness of 
reasonable religion. 


83 



Though other such circumstantial factors might be 
noted, reasons for The C3iristian Year 's success go be¬ 
yond its effectiveness as a response to particular prob¬ 
lems. In its images and content it is very much a mani¬ 
festation of the nineteenth-century Romantic reaction 
against eighteenth-century rationalism. Those who ap¬ 
preciated Wordsworth and the Lake Poets, but preferred a 
more religious emphasis, found what they sought in The 
Christian Year . And, precisely because Keble was not so 
daring in style and imagery as were many of his fellow 
Romantics, his work found a wider audience. As a pro¬ 
duct of its age. The Christian Year was assured popular¬ 
ity; as a response to the spiritual needs of the Church, 
it was assured impact. 

While recognizing that The Christian Year ’s impact 
on the Church of England was due in part to the pecu¬ 
liarities of its historical setting. Evangelicals seek¬ 
ing the renewal of the contemporary Church can neverthe¬ 
less profit from its example. The process by which 
Keble came to write The Christian Year illustrates the 
point that Christians ought to see art neither solely as 
its own justification nor solely as a means to some nar¬ 
rowly-defined polemical end: clearly Keble was motivated 
by both considerations. If artists* efforts touch on 
the needs of the Church, they need not feel they are 
compromising by adapting and expanding their expressions 
in order to more fully address these needs. Both ele¬ 
ments are essential if art is to have its full impact: 
The Christian Year *s appeal lay equally in the personal 
nature of Keble*s expression and in its timeliness. 

The Christian Year *s popularity and impact upon the 
spiritual life of the Church of England suggest several 
ways in which the arts might lend themselves to the re¬ 
newal of the Church today. First, The Christian Year ’s 
wide circulation among groups holding diverse theologi¬ 
cal perspectives suggests that the arts might be an ef¬ 
fective tool for transcending traditional sociological 
barriers which often hinder communication and stifle re¬ 
newal. For example, through the arts small groups with¬ 
in pluralistic denominations might reach wider audiences 
than through more traditional means: the arts can focus 
attention on issues in a less threatening manner than 
more propositional forms of expression. Second, because 
the arts speak to the heart as well as the head, they 
are particularly well-suited to address the problems as¬ 
sociated with dead orthodoxy. Commitment of the will is 
as important as is cognitive understanding to vital 
Christianity. The arts can draw individuals beyond mere 
assent to the familiar truths of Scripture to a deeper 
appreciation of their content. The arts can express the 
centrality of personal relationship with Christ in a way 
that leads others to long for this bond. A subtle pre¬ 
sentation of Scriptural truth in art can often be more 
effective than explicit apologetic, especially for those 


84 




who may be so familiar with traditional argoments as to 
hold them in contempt. 

The proper role of the arts in renewal, as John 
Keble realized, is as supplement. They cannot address 
people's beliefs as directly as their feelings and atti¬ 
tudes—yet this secondary role is nevertheless vital* 
As the experience of the Oxford Movement suggests, the 
arts can lend a weight to more traditional efforts far 
beyond what is Intrinsic to them. The Impact of The 
Christian Year demonstrates the tremendous potential the 
arts offer for the renewal of the Church. Those working 
toward this end ought not to neglect so powerful a tool. 



85 




APPENDIX 

Two Poems from The Christian Year 

Second Sunday in Advent 

And when these things begin to come to pasS) 
then look up^ and lift up your heads; for your 
redemption draweth nigh.—St. Luke xxl.28. 

Not till the freezing blast Is still» 

Till freely leaps the sparkling rill. 

And gales sweep soft from summer skies. 

As o’er a sleeping Infant's eyes, 

A mother's kiss: ere calls like these. 

No sunny gleam awakes the trees. 

Nor dare the tender flowerets show 
Their bosoms to th' uncertain glow. 

Why then. In sad and wintry time. 

Her heavens all dark with doiibt and crime. 
Why lifts the Church her drooping head. 

As though her evil hour were fled? 

Is she less wise than leaves of spring. 

Or birds that cower with folded wing? 

What sees she In this lowering sky 
To tempt her meditative eye? 

She has a charm, a word of fire, 

A pledge of love that cannot tire; 

By tempests, earthquakes, and by wars. 

By rushing waves and falling stars. 

By every sign her Lord foretold. 

She sees the world Is waxing old. 

And through that last and direst storm 
Descries by faith her Saviour's form. 

Not surer does each tender gem. 

Set In the fig-tree's polish'd stem. 

Foreshow the summer season bland. 

Than these dread signs Thy mighty hand: 

But oh! frail hearts, and spirits dark! 

The season's flight unwam'd we mark. 

But miss the Judge behind the door. 

For all the light of sacred lore: 

Yet Is He there: beneath our eaves 
Bach sound His wakeful ear receives: 

Hush, Idle words, and thoughts of 111, 

Your Lord is listening: peace, be still. 
Christ watches by a Christian's hearth. 

Be silent, "vain deluding mirth,” 

Till in thine alter'd voice be known 
Somewhat of Resignation's tone. 


86 



But chiefly ye should lift your gaze 
Above the world's uncertain haze; 

And look with calm, unwavering eye, 

On the bright fields beyond the sky; 

Ye, who your Lord's commission bear. 

His way of mercy to prepare: 

Angels He calls ye: be your strife 
To lead on Earth an Angel's life. 

Think not of rest; though dreams be sweet. 

Start and ply your heavenward feet. 

Is not God's oath upon your head. 

Ne'er to slink back on slothful bed. 

Never again your loins untie. 

Nor let your torches waste and die. 

Till, when the shadows thickest fall. 

Ye hear your Master's midnight call? 

Eighteenth Sunday after Trinity 
I will bring you into the wilderness of the people, 
and there will I plead with you face to face. Like 
as 1 pleaded with your fathers in the wilderness of 
the land of Egypt, so will I plead with you, saith 
the Lord God.—Ezekiel xx. 35, 36. 

It is so—ope thine eyes, and see— 

What view'St thou all around? 

A desert, where iniquity 

And knowledge both abound. 

In the waste howling wilderness 

The Church is wandering still. 

Because we would not onward press 
When close to Sion's hill. 

Back to the world we faithless turn'd. 

And far along the wild. 

With labour lost and sorrow earn'd. 

Our steps have been beguiled. 

Yet full before us, all the while. 

The shadowing pillar stays. 

The living waters brightly smile, 

Th' eternal turrets blaze. 

Yet Heaven is raining angels' bread 
To be our daily food. 

And fresh, as when it first was shed. 

Springs forth the Saviour's blood. 

From every region, race, and speech. 

Believing myriads throng. 

Till, far as sin and sorrow reach. 

Thy grace is spread along; 


87 



Till sweetest natxite, brightest art. 
Their votive incense bring. 

And every voice and every heart 
Own Thee their God and King. 

All own; but few, alasI will love; 

Too like the recreant band 
That with thy patient Spirit strove 
Upon the Ked-sea strand. 

0 Father of long-suffering grace. 
Thou who hast sworn to stay 
Pleading with sinners face to face 
Through all their devious way; 


How shall we speak to Thee, 0 Lord, 

Or how in silence lie? 

Look on us, and we are abhorr 'd. 

Turn from us, and we die. 

Thy guardian fire, Thy guiding cloud. 
Still let them gild our wall. 

Nor be our foes and Thine allow'd 
To see us faint and fall. 

Too oft, within this camp of Thine, 
Rebellious murmurs rise; 

Sin cannot bear to see Thee shine 
So awful to her eyes. 

Fain would our lawless hearts escape, 
And with the heathen be. 

To worship every monstrous shape 
In fancied darkness free. 

Vain thought, that shall not be at all! 
Refuse we or obey. 

Our ears have heard th'Almighty's call. 
We cannot be as they. 

We cannot hope the heathen's doom. 

To whom God's Son is given. 

Whose eyes have seen beyond the tomb. 
Who have the key of Heaven. 

Weak tremblers on the edge of woe, 

Yet shrinking from true bliss. 

Our rest must be "no rest beloW," 

And let our prayer be this: 


"Lord, wave again Thy chastening rod. 
Till every idol throne 
Crumble to dust, and Thou, 0 God, 
Reign in our hearts alone. 

88 



"Bring all our wandering fancies home, 

For thou hast every spell. 

And 'mid the heathen where they roam. 

Thou knowest. Lord, too well* 

"Thou know'st our service sad and hard, 

Thou know'st us fond and frail;— 

Win us to be beloved and spared 

When all the world shall fall. 

"So when at last our weary days 
Are well-nl^ wasted here. 

And we can trace Thy wondrous ways 
In distance calm and clear, 

"When In Thy love and Israel's sin 
We read our story true. 

We may not, all too late, begin 
To wish our hopes were new: 

"Long loved, long tried, long spared as they. 
Unlike In this alone. 

That, by Thy grace, our hearts shall stay 
For evermore Thine own." 


89 



Notes 


In The Tractarian Movement; 1833«1845 (London: Putnam, 1933), 
p, 151; Geoffrey Faber, in The Oxford Apostles (Harmondaworth, 
Middlesex: Penguin Books, 1934), p. 99, downplays the effectiveness and 
significance of their poetry: *'0f all the strange features of the 
Oxford Movement none is stranger than the feebleness of its poetry;*' 
yet even as unsympathetic a critic of Christianity as A.E* Houseman 
could say: "Keble is a poet: there are things in The Christian Year 
that can be admired by atheists." (This is quoted in R. Chapman, Faith 
and Revolt:Studies in the Literary Influence of the Oxford Movement 
(London: Weidenfeld and Nicholson, 1970), p. 63. 

2 In Memoir of the Rev. John Keble (Oxford: James Parker, 1880), 

pp.> 101-102. 

^ The private and personal nature of these early poems is confirm¬ 
ed by Keble*s expression of his embarassment at The Christian Year 's 
popularity in a letter to Mr. Pruen in 1828 (in Coleridge, p. 122): 

I had long ago considered about printing 'the Dedication' you 
speak of: but somehow or other (though Davison recommended 
it) I could not bring myself to it; it seemed too much like 
printing one's own private confessions: and so to be sure is 
half the book; and many times, when I consider what my 
friends would think of me if I were to print the other nine- 
tenths of my thou^ts, 1 really feel quite ashamed of having 
printed the book at all: for though I am not blind enough to 
see all the good in it that you do, I am well aware there is 
quite good enough to make it on the whole a considerable fib 
on my part. But this will not do to talk and laugh about. 

^ Quoted in Alexander Grant's introduction to John Keble, The 
Christian Year (New York: T.Y. Crowell, 1888), p. xlvii. 

5 The title of Miller's fourth sermon was "The Christian Year." 
Keble later asked permission to use this title for his own work (thus 
Coleridge, p. 321). 

^ Quoted in Coleridge, pp. 117-118. 

7 Quoted in Coleridge, pp. 118-119. 

^ The opening lines of his poem for St. John Baptist's Day show 
that Keble had not minced words: 

Twice in her season of decay 

The fallen Church hath felt Elijah's eye 

Dart from the wild its piercing ray. 

9 Quoted in Brian Martin, John Keble: Priest, Professor and Poet 
(London: Croom Helm, 1976), p. 31. 

^0 In his lectures as Professor of Poetry at Oxford, Keble was to 
develop the idea that the great poet wrote to relieve his heart of its 
powerful emotions. 

Quoted in Martin, p. 31. 

^2 Quoted in Faber, p. 202. 

Quoted in Coleridge, p. 121. 

Quoted in C.P.S. Clarke, The Oxford Movement and After (London: 
A.R. Mowbray, 1932), p. 40. 


90 




Quoted in Clarke, p. 40* 

Quoted in Georgina Battiscombe, John Keble; A Study in Limita- 
tions (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1964), p. 103. 

Quoted in Coleridge, p. 153. 

Quoted in Coleridge, p. 167; see also note 8. 

Coleridge, p. 168. 

Clarke, p. 40. 

Quoted in Battiscombe, p. 104. 

Martin, p. 112. 

Battiscombe, p. 111. 

Grant, p. xlvii. 

Chapman, p. 269. 

Battiscombe, p. 104. 

Battiscombe, p. 113. 

Herbert Leslie Stewart, A Century of Anqlo-Catholiciam (New 
York: Oxford University Press, 1929), p. 66; Thomas Hardy satirizes 
Miss Fontover as "knowing The Christian Year by heart" in his Jude the 
Obscure, which is broadly critical of the Oxford Movement—see Martin, 

p. 111. 

29 Martin, pp. 73-74. 

Martin, p. 113. 

Battiscombe, p. 268. 

^2 John Keble (London: Philip Allan, 1933), p. 101. 

Quoted in Martin, p. 136. 

See, for example, the poem for the Sunday after Ascension and 
Martin's discussion of it, pp. 119-120. 

Coleridge, p. 157; this also demonstrates that clergy as well 
as laypeople appreciated and promoted The Christian Year. A contempo¬ 
rary Old Testament professor. Dr. Stanley, recommended it because of 
the "graphic accuracy" of Keble's descriptions of the Holy Land; cf. 
Grant, p. li. 

Newman himself corroborates this effect on the Church: "Vhen 
the general tone of religious literature was so nerveless and impotent, 
as it was at that time, Keble struck an original note and woke up in 
the hearts of thousands a new music, a music of a school long unknown 
in England." Apologia Pro Vita Sua (London: Longmans, Green, Reader, 
and Oyer, 1880), p. 18. 

Keble was elected to the Professorship of Poetry at Oxford 
largely on the merits of The Christian Year. 

E.G. Pusey's name, on the other hand, was considered positively 
repulsive in many circles. 

59 Clarke, p. 41. 

Battiscombe, p. 113. 

Battiscombe, p. 113. 

^2 Newman, pp. 18-19. 

^5 Clarke, p. 34. 

Though this question is not limited to the modern reader; see 
Coleridge, p. 159. 

^5 Richard Church, The Oxford Movement: Twelve Years, 1833-1845 , 
ed. and intro, by Geoffrey Best (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 
1970), pp. 10-11. 

Church, p. 17. 

Church, p. 18. 

Church, p. 18-20. 


91 



Keble himself did not alnays adhere to this principlet and his 
art's effectiveness consequently suffered. Lyra Apostolica was a col¬ 
lection of poems by a number of Oxford Movement leaders to tihich Keble 
was a major contributor. Its focus was simply the communication of 
Tractarian ideas. This work was not well received critically, nor was 
it nearly as effective as The Christian Year. Nor can its comparative 
lack of popularity be attributed to the fact that the Oxford movement 
was by now simply one more party within the Church, since during the 
same period The Christian Year continued to sell well. 



92 




TRICHOTGMY AND ADTHOiaTARlANlSM: 

WATCHNAN NEE AND CDLTIG ABUSE 
G. Thomas Morton 

Introduction 

Too often what is taught in seminary classrooms 
bears little relation to the unexamined beliefs of the 
average church-goer. Nowhere is this more apparent than 
in regard to the Christian doctrine of man. Though 
theologians of the Western Church have traditionally 
favored the dichotomist view that human nature consists 
of body and soul, in recent decades the trichotomist un¬ 
derstanding of man as a tripartite being composed of 
body, soul, and spirit, pressed by such widely-read 
authors as Watchman Nee and Andrew Murray, has come to 
ascendance among lay Christians. 

Thou^ much has been written in assessment of the 
relative merits of these two positions against the Bib¬ 
lical evidence, and even against a posited Hebraic whol- 
istic approach,1 the concern of this article will be to 
examine trichotomy from another perspective. Very often 
the trichotomist view of human nature comes bound up 
with an outlook and lifestyle which verge on the cul- 
tic. Indeed, there almost seems to be a strange cause- 
and-effect mechanism at work: this particular teaching, 
when coupled with a corollary doctrine of spiritual 
authority which attempts to relate trichotomous human 
beings with each other and with God, appears to lead al¬ 
most inevitably to an authoritarian system of fellow¬ 
ship. What, then, is the relationship between trichot¬ 
omy and cultlc control? 

By drawing on several sources, but primarily the 
writings of Watchman Nee, this article will trace the 
trichotomist view of human nature and the respective 
functions and internal relationships of body, soul, and 
spirit. Building on this, the link between trichotomy 
and Nee*s doctrine of spiritual authority will be out¬ 
lined. Finally, ways in which this system lends itself 
to cultic control will be noted. 

I 

According to advocates of the trichotomist view, 
man consists of body, soxil, and spirit. As Nee ex¬ 
plains. 

By his spirit man holds intercourse with the spiri¬ 
tual world and with the Sjpirlt of God, both receiv¬ 
ing and eaqpresslpg the power and life of the spiri¬ 
tual realm. IhroM^ His boc^ man is in contact 
with the outside sensuous world, affectii^ it and 
beipg affected ly it. The soul stands between 
these two worlds, yet belopgs to both. It is link¬ 
ed with the spiritual world through the spirit and 
with the material world throu^ the bod/.^ 


93 



Trichotomists sometimes offer a diagram to clarify these 
divisions: 


Body- 


Soul 


Oifter Man 



- Inner Man 









Outermost 


A hierarchy is apparent: **The spirit is the noblest for 
it joins with God. The body is the lowest for it 
contacts with matter.*'^ The soul, however, is the most 
potent aspect of our being because of its pivotal posi¬ 
tion joining the spirit and the body. 

Though the specific origins of this teaching remain 
obscure, trichotomy rose to great popularity in the late 
nineteenth century. Kjqponents have included Mary E. 
McDonough, Andrew Murray, G.H. Pember, Jessie Penn- 
Lewis, and Henry Alford. Advocates of this doctrine, of 
course, like to point to its beginnings in Scripture* 
The principal texts cited are I Thessalonians 5:23 ("May 
God himself, the God of peace, sanctify you througjh and 
through. May your whole spirit, soul, and body be kept 
blameless at the coming of ova: Lord Jesus Christ.") and 
Hebrews 4:12 ("The Word of God is living and active. 
Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even 
to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it 
judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart."). The 
Scofield Bible’s notes elaborate on the distinction of 
soul and spirit: 

They are declared to be divisible (Heb.4:12) and 
are dLstiqguished when used in reference to the 
burial and resirrection of the hunan bod^. The 
bod/ is buried a natural boc^ (Gk. soma psiJchlkoDr 
-soul-bod/) but raised a spiritial bod^ (Qc. soma 
pneunatikon) (1 Cor. 15:44). Ihe difference between 
the two terms seans to be that the spirit is that 
which "knows” (I Cor 2:11) and is c^ble of Qod- 
conscioustiess and coaiaxiication with God (Job 32:8; 

Prov.20:27; cp. fts. 18:28), whereas the soul is the 
seat of tlie affections, desires, emotions, and the 
will ot nan (». ll:29;26:38;Jn.l2;27).6 


94 



Trichotomists also cite the Magnificat*s opening coup¬ 
let: soul praises the Lord, and my spirit rejoices 

in God my Savior," (Luke 1:46,47) Pember conmients, 
"Here the change in tense [in the Greek] shows that the 
spirit first conceived joy in God, and then, communicat¬ 
ing with the soul, roused it to give expression to the 
feeling by means of the bodily organ."7 

Trichotomist popularizers do not devote much space 
to the body’s character, other than to observe that it 
is the fleshly tent of the soul and spirit, with five 
senses by which to perceive the world. Though the body 
is not seen as intrinsically evil,® its drive to repro¬ 
duce and its need for nourishment and defense render it 
highly susceptible to worldly corruption. Nor is the 
Christian to take refuge in it: "The estate common to 
every believer [Nee’s emphasis] is that his body is dead 
but his spirit is alive. 

The trichotomist conception of spirit and soul now 
warrants a closer look. Most of the following analysis 
is taken from Nee’s massive The Spiritual Man , which 
provides much of the fodder for other contemporary 
teaching on this subject. 

The spirit is that part of man which communes with 
God. Encased within the soul, the spirit is dead un¬ 
til it is regenerated by the Holy Spirit. Although it 
is not physical, it is nonetheless a separate entity 
within the body. Often a believer lacks knowledge of 
his spirit’s existence.Consequently, he thinks that 
his spirit and his soul perform the same function. The 
believer may then seek spiritual guidance in his soul. 
This is dangerous, according to the trichotomist,^^ for, 
as will be seen below, the soul is a defiling element in 
man. Soul and spirit must never be confused: God wish¬ 
es us to be strengthened in the "inner man" (= spirit) 
(Ephesians 3:16), simply because the Holy Spirit has no 
direct power over the soul or body. Instead, the spirit 
is intended to regulate the impulses of body and soul. 
Nee stresses this: 

God’s aim in a regenerated man is for that man by 
his spirit to rid himself of everything belo n giDg 
to the old creation, because within his regenerated 
spirit He all the works of God towards him. 

[Nee’s enphasisp-® 

The journey that the believer travels in this continual 
eradication of the old nature is the pilgrimage of 
faith. The intellect and emotions are powerless to fur¬ 
ther it.^^ 

The popular anthropology further subdivides the 
spirit into intuition, conscience, and communion. The 
intuition is the component of the spirit which "knows" 
God directly. This Intuition, which makes no use of 


95 



reason, is so fundamental to one's being that a "normal” 
(= Spirit-led) Christian need only heed it to know God's 
will.l^ Nee calls this knowledge "revelation.When 
one is sure of this revelation from God, there is no 
need to seek out other Christians for confirmation of 
guidance.Further, for anything to be of benefit in 
one's spiritual life, it must come from such revelation 
to the intuition. Interestingly, even thou^ the intu¬ 
ition directly senses God's leading. Nee often refers to 
it as "delicate," since it can come under a "soulical” 
influence.This influence becomes strongest when the 
believer tries to use his mind in an improper fashion to 
know the things of God. 

Conscience, the second component of the spirit, 
distinguishes right from wrong as a spontaneous act of 
judgmentit is not deliberative in a rationalistic 
manner. Conscience is the place in which God manifests 
his holiness, both in regeneration and in the daily life 
of the Christian.21 Though the unregenerate spirit is 
"dead," its conscience is better thought of as "coma¬ 
tose. "22 The Spirit of God quickens the conscience as 
the first step in leading a person to the new birth. 
Nee considers the conscience to be a "window to the be¬ 
liever's spirit” which lets in the light of revelation 
in order to judge sin. 23 Whatever the conscience con¬ 
demns, therefore, has been condemned by God.^^ If a be¬ 
liever should override his conscience in committing even 
a single sin, he risks obscuring the intuition and 
thereby interrupting fellowship with God. 23 The con¬ 
science, therefore, must be continually guarded against 
the dullness which too much rationalism can bring about. 

The final component of the spirit is communion, the 
aspect which worships God. God communes with us entire¬ 
ly in our spirits.Revelation comes during communion 
when the Christian "prays in the spirit." So long as 
the intuition remains unfettered by reason or the flesh, 
fellowship with God will thrive. 

Nee lists eight "laws of the spirit" which a be¬ 
liever must know; 27 the one who grasps these will be a 
"spiritual man.” The spiritual man is to be governed by 
the spirit, with both the soul and the flesh in tranquil 
subjection."A normal spirit is humble and contrite 
(Isaiah 57:15), gentle and quiet (I Peter 3:4), poor and 
yet joyful, strong and yet broken, fervent and yet 
cool.”2^ 

The major obstacle to the spiritual life, however, 
lies in the soul. Not surprisingly, then, much of Nee's 
writing deals with the soul: he sees it as "man's prime 
factor."30 Nee maintains that Adam before the fall had 
a power at least a "million times over ours" in the psy¬ 
chic realm.31 Though after the fall God forbade man to 
attempt to use his original soulical powers to communi¬ 
cate with the spirit world, 32 the soul now has a "latent 


96 



power” that Satan uses to tempt man away from a U>dly 
spiritual life.^3 The key to victory in the struggle is 
to "rightly divide" the soul and the spirit and prevent 
the soul’s influence from creeping into the spiritual 
realm.|j»(ee, then, does not see sin as man’s only 
stumbling block: he regards good deeds done apart from 
the Spirit’s revelation to the intuition as pulling be¬ 
lievers away from God as well. "The good of the flesh 
must be done away with." tie even carries the logic so 
far as to say that "Satan can urge people to love the 
Lord or even teach people to pray. "35 Xhe only way out 
of this predicament is for the believer to continually 
examine himself in the light of Hebrews 4:12; the Word 
and the Spirit must test every action. Either an action 
is prompted by the spirit’s influence on the soul or it 
represents the soul’s attempt to usurp the place of the 
spirit. 

Nee divides the soul into emotions, mind, and 
will. The emotions represent the greatest potential 
stumbling block for Christians, because nearly all soul- 
ish practices originate in them.36 Nee further divides 
the emotions into affections, desires, and feelings 
(note the trichotomies!).37 The emotions "enter from 
the outside," in contrast to inspiration, which origi¬ 
nates within the spirit.36 The peace of the spiritual 
man's soul should not be disturbed by these external af¬ 
fections or desires, because they count for nothing in 
God's sight.Since the emotions, and especially the 
affections, are the greatest hindrance, they also pro¬ 
vide the greatest test for the believer. Desire com¬ 
prises the largest part of the emotional life; while the 
natural man's desire aligns Itself with the will to re¬ 
bel against God,^^ God wishes the Christian’s desire to 
match His own.Nee decries a life of feeling as well, 
because nothing shows more clearly how unstable a person 
can be.^3 Nee urges the difference between faith and 
"sight" (» emotion)though the emotions are not an¬ 
nihilated under the reborn spirit, sufferings only pene¬ 
trate the outer man, leaving the inner nan open to the 
leading of the Spirit. 

The second component of the soul is the mind, "the 
organ of thought. "^6 Because it has remained in the 
grip of Satan and the flesh for so long, it is hostile 
to God (Romans 8:7). It provided the devil’s access to 
Adam and Eve, and now it is a battlefield fought over by 
the Holy Spirit and Satan. ^7 Prior to the new birth the 
mind prevents a person from seeing God, and after regen¬ 
eration the intellect still is tainted—man is given a 
transformed life and a regenerated heart, but not a new 
head.^^ Nee asserts that our minds too need salvation 
(citing Ephesians 6:17):^^ our thoughts are too weak to 
hold under the continual attack of evil spirits. 
Nee urges the reader to examine his thoughts and observe 
how ideas arise. "Each thought which man chooses not to 


97 



think and each one which opposes man’s will come not 
from man but from the outside.Nee, however, does 
not advocate that the believer strive for a passive or 
empty mind. Rather, since flashing thoughts, pictiires, 
dreams, insomnia, forgetfulness, lack of concentration, 
and so forth all indicate a battle which is being won by 
Satan,the great need becomes deliverance from demonic 
oppression.This deliverance leads to a renewed mind 
(Rom 12:2) which can then serve as an open channel for 
the Spirit’s revelation to the intuition.The mind 
can receive truth only insofar as it is in stJbmission to 
the spirit. It must not attempt to digest information 
on its own, else the Christian will lapse into a soulish 
condition. 

The will is the third aspect of the soul. Nee 
calls it "the most influential component of our entire 
person. It is deeper than emotion and mind.The 
"sovereign, independent, free will of man" stands be¬ 
tween the will of Cod and the will of Satan.56 Just as 
with the emotions and the mind, the will must not act on 
its own: to do so would be an act of the flesh. 57 Xhe 
first stage of salvation, initiated by the pricked con¬ 
science, is the conversion of the will.56 xhe will ex¬ 
presses attitude, intention, condition—in short, life 
itself. 5^ The will must never become passive, ejecting 
God to carry it, for when this happens man loses his 
freedom in Christ and becomes a slave to Satan.60 Xhose 
who appear most spiritual may sometimes be most tempted 
to this passivity.61 These Oiristians nay believe that 
because they have been crucified with Christ they must 
practice the death of their own volition. 6^ Against 
this. Nee emphasizes that death with Christ does not re¬ 
fer to the annihilation of personality.65 if a Chris¬ 
tian slips into passivity, he may need to be delivered 
precisely through the assertion of his will.6^ Nee 
stresses this: 

The sunnLt of a Christian’s spiritual ^Ik is self- 
control. What cainDnly is spoken of as the Holy 
Spirit rulipg in us does not mean that He directly 
controls aty part of man. Any mLsuiderstandLng of 
this will result in either deception or despair. 

II 

The above is a brief outline of the trichotomlst 
doctrine of man held today by countless Christians. 66 
While this system affects to answer many questions about 
human nature, however, it appears to raise as many as it 
resolves. For example, how can a person ever really 
know that he is spiritual? Tnat is, how can he be sure 
his love of God is really from the spirit and not from 
the flesh or, worse, from Satan? As a corollary to 
this, what happens if one person’s understanding of the 
Word differs from another’s? Can both be spirit- 


98 



ual? In short, how are trichotomous human beings to in¬ 
teract? How will disagreements and conflicts be resolv¬ 
ed in the spiritual community? 

The answer to these questions comes in Nee*s doc¬ 
trine of spiritual authority, developed in his volume of 
lectures bearing this title.Nee delivered these lec¬ 
tures in 1948, 20 years after writing Tne Spiritual 

Man. By this time he had begun to be influenced by the 
organizational skills of his authoritarian assistant 
Witness Lee. In Spiritual Authority , Nee sets forth the 
idea that '*God*s authority represents God Himself 
whereas his power stands only for his act.”^^ Thus, for 
example. Nee understands that Paul, in meeting Ananias 
who bore God's authority, was really encountering God 
himself. From this. Nee concludes that "whoever has met 
authority deals purely with authority and not with 
man. "69 xhe personal (soullcal) aspects of human auth¬ 
ority are to be discounted. To show respect for God's 
authority through unquestioning obedience to His will is 
Man's greatest obligation. Whoever does not submit to 
this authority is "under the rebellious principle of Sa¬ 
tan. "^0 Nee sunmarizes: "Let us know that there are 
two principles in the universe: the principle of God's 
authority and the principle of Satanic rebellion, 

By way of illustration. Nee notes how severely God 
punished rebellion in the Old Testament. For example. 
Nee mentions the story of Nadab and Abihu (Leviticus 
10:2): God punished them for offering "strange fire" 

before the Lord. Nee takes this as a reference to their 
serving "without obedience to authority.Another im¬ 
portant passage for Nee in this discussion is 1 Samuel 
15:23, which equates rebellion with the sin of witch¬ 
craft. 

Nee brings the cosmic manifestations of authority 
down to earth in a chapter entitled, "Men Should Obey 
Delegated Authority." Using Romans 13:1 and 1 Peter 
2:13-14 as premises, he draws an inference: "God is the 
source of all authorities in the universe. Now, since 
all governing authorities are instituted by Him, then 
all authorities are delegated by Him and represent his 
authority. "7^ From this principle Nee lays down a 
strict chain of command governing relationships in the 
world, the family, and the Church.74 He then deals with 
the qualifications and characteristics of "delegated 
authorities." Nee treats the responsibility of delegat¬ 
ed authority in a chapter titled, VMisuse of Authority 
and God's Governmental Discipline." Nee emphasizes that 
to be a delegated authority is a serious matter: if one 
in authority errs, he should acknowledge his sin as his 
own doing and thereby refrain from drawing God into the 
picture.God will judge the delegated authority who 
errs.76 Other chapters argue that delegated authorities 
are themselves to be under authority, are to maintain a 
servant attitude, and are thereby to grow in sanctifica- 
tion.77 


99 



Ill 

What remains is to establish the connection of Nee’s an¬ 
thropology and consequent heirarchical conception of au¬ 
thority to cultic abuse. While Nee commendably warns 
delegated authorities of their responsibilities, he 
makes no provision for the rights of their followers. 
Several problems arise. First, a Christian must never 
question the statements of authorities who are over 
him. Since authority is from God, to question delegated 
authority is to question the one who delegates—God him¬ 
self. Nee offers no middle ground between submission 
and rebellion. 

Second, the possibility that an authority nay be 
wrong provides no escape from the responsibility to o- 
bey. Nee argues, "If God dares to entrust His authority 
to men, then we can dare to obey.... [T]he Lord will 
not hold us responsible for any mistaken obedience, 
rather will He hold the delegated authority responsible 
for his erroneous act. "78 

This assertion takes on new significance in light 
of an incident in Nee’s early Christian experience. The 
young Nee had a disagreement with an older Christian 
with whom he worked in a local school. Nee believed the 
older person was wrong and, wanting the dispute resolv¬ 
ed, took the matter to his supervisor: 

But she, knowing God, and hating pride and Jealousy 
in herself, ignored the ri^ts and wrongs of the 
situation and quietly answered, had better do 
as he s^s.•«. [l]n the lord, the younger should 
sibffllt to the older. 7^ 

Nee came to regard relative position of authority as 
more important than the truth or falsehood of a matter 
in determining action. Again the radical simplicity of 
Nee’s world view—"God’s authority vs. Satan’s rebel¬ 
lion"—gives the member of church, family, or society no 
recourse in the event of controversy. 

Third, since the spiritual man receives revelation 
through his intuition. Nee concludes, "Revelation is 
therefore the evidence of authority.”®^ Can a person 
resist delegated authority on the basis of God’s author¬ 
ity (i.e., in effect, on the basis of an appeal to a 
higher revelation)? Apparently not. Nee recounts the 
story of the rebellious company of Korah (Numbers 16), 
who asked Moses, "Why then do you set yourself above the 
Lord’s assembly?" He paraphrases their accusations: 

"We acknowled^ that God is in the midst of the 
coiigr^tion for the coqgregation is holy, but we 
do not acknowled^ jour authority for jou are a 


100 



usurper. ** We learn from this instance that all who 
hearken to God *s direct authority but reject dele¬ 
gated authority are nonetheless under the principle 
of rebellion , [wee’s emphasis 

A person's claim to revelation thus becomes paramount. 
While ifee blesses the meek leader, the leader in commun¬ 
ion with God nonetheless has his authority and position 
firmly established. Demands for justice, dignity, or 
even a fair hearing need not be recognized: "whoever 

refuses to hear [the delegated authority] disobeys 
God." 

Nee identifies three factors by which the soul man¬ 
ifests its rebelliousness: words, reasons, and 

thoughts.Words reflect the attitude of the heart, 
"for out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks.” 
(Matthew 12:34) The heart, the channel between the soul 
and the spirit,too often provides an entryway for re¬ 
belliousness. Since soul and flesh can nake no positive 
contribution to the life of the spirit, reason is highly 
suspect: it may contradict intuition, and it is vulner¬ 
able to evil spirits.®^ Because God's authority is ab¬ 
solute and man's obedience is imperative, man "must cast 
aside reason."®^ 

Paul urges Christians to submit to one another 
(Ephesians 5:21) and Jesus urges his disciples to be 
servants (John 13). Though such teaching ought to 
thwart the development of a corrupt authoritarianism on 
the part of Christian leaders. Nee's concept of spirit¬ 
ual aut lority upsets the delicate balance and can lead 
to abuses on the part of leaders who accept it. 

Five other areas of cultic abuse similarly take 
their cue from Nee's doctrine of trichotomy and its cor¬ 
ollary, aaiiirltuaL authority. The first appears in Nee's 
"us/them" mentality: over and over again in The Spirit¬ 
ual Man he refers to "innumerable Christians” who are 
unaware of such matters as the importance of dividing 
soul and spirit. This mentality is related to the fac¬ 
tor of "opposition" in cult analysis, wherein a group 
defines itself "as being in opposition to their local 
church, their denomination, or the church at large. 
While Nee condemned sectarianism, ironically, his own 
churches, known as the "Little Flock,” dissociated them¬ 
selves entirely from the other denominations in China. 

If Nee's ideas were so important to spiritual life,^^ 
one wonders vdiy, rather than offering them within the 
broader Christian community of China, he and his follow¬ 
ers insisted on withdrawing into isolation. 

Second, the fragility of the spirit in Nee's uader- 
standing necessitates strong spiritual authority. The 
delicate intuitive sense of the spirit must be continu¬ 
ally guarded against the encroachments of soul and 
flesh. Even if a person believes he is winning this 


101 



battle, had best be wary, else he may unwarily slip 
into soulish emotionalism or rationalism* “Regardless 
how much we know truth and earnestly contend for it, the 
soul is forever our vulnerable spot ••*• Unless Chris¬ 
tians are keenly alert in resisting the devil, they 
shall encounter great defeat through their self life. 

How then can believers know victory in their stuggles? 
Only by remaining in subjection to proper spiritual au^ 
thorities who have clearer revelations! Moreover, these 
spiritual authorities are often functionally defined as 
those who highly esteem Watchman Wee*s teachings* The 
Local Church of Witness Lee, for example, derived from 
Nee’s teaching that Cod establishes only one church for 
each geographical location, fully accepts Nee’s trichot- 
omous theories, 92 ^nd consequently places great emphasis 
on "spiritual” understanding of the Bible by means of 
such practices as the "pray-reading" of Scripture*93 if 
such a practice strikes an observer as questionable, he 
will simply be told that he is "in his mind" and not "in 
his spirit*” The spirit is inscrutable, the soul is a 
rebellious roaring lion, and the Christian is helpless 
without authority to tell him how he must live* 

Another common cultic phenomenon illustrated in 
Nee’s anthropology is the "Satan complex*" While not 
denying the reality of the devil, I nonetheless question 
the inordinate stress that cults place on the Adver¬ 
sary* In Nee’s treatment of the mind, he ascribes every 
fleeting unwanted thought to the influence of evil spir¬ 
its* Further, every instance of resistance to delegated 
authority constitutes Satanic rebellion* (1 have seen 
this worked out in one charismatic fellowship that lean¬ 
ed on Nee’s books* A young woman who nearly died after 
repeated exorcism and "healings" failed to cure her 
stomach disorder was accused of having a "spirit of re¬ 
bellion like the sons of Korah" for not submitting to 
the teachings of the fellowship when she finally sought 
proper medical treatment*) The absolutism of Nee, and 
of those who follow him, leads to a judgmental attitude 
toward those who disagree with his worldview* The reia- 
soning becomes, "If they do not stand with God’s anoint¬ 
ed, they surely stand with Satan." 

Two final areas of cultic abuse that find their 
sources in Nee relate to the emotions—especially the 
affections—and the mind* Affection, in Nee’s thinking, 
poses the greatest threat to a consecrated life* "Noth¬ 
ing," Nee writes, "is more paramount in one’s consecra¬ 
tion than is his affection*.** Every spiritual believer 
appreciates the necessity for affection to be offered 
first* For without that, nothing is really offered*"9^ 
Nee sets out a neat, clear-cut choice for believerss 
emotions must be surrendered* A person who has "devel¬ 
oped" in his spiritual life to the point of repressing 
his emotions may even be led to perceive giving up a 
loved one as the "next step" in spiritual growth* For 

102 



those in positions of cultic authority, the exercise of 
affection for family members or friends by those under 
authority can come to be seen as the greatest threat to 
the cohesiveness of their group. If normal ties with 
family and friends can be broken, the authoritarian 
leader can substitute himself as the object of the af¬ 
fections of his followers. This may or may not be in¬ 
tentional—^at first the leader may simply encourage his 
flock to assess relationships for, say, carnal activity 
—but once a pattern is set in which people must "choose 
God or loved ones," the possibilities for control esca¬ 
late rapidly. 

As has been seen. Nee views the mind as a battle¬ 
field. For this reason, its exercise of creative 
thought must be held to a minimum. "The head should 
never guide or lead.**^^ The proper role of the mind is 
a negative one, to "prove" the revelations that come to 
the intuition. This "defensive posture" for the mind 
essentially renders it helpless to judge its own activi¬ 
ty. The only way in which a person can be sure his 
thoughts are proper is by submitting totally to a dele¬ 
gated authority who can then give him revelation and 
teaching. But if a person has yielded to this extent, 
why should not the delegated authority go further and 
tell him what he is to do, where he is to vrork, with 
whom he is to live, what he is to think? This is brain¬ 
washing in its most direct form. When a person has gone 
this far, it is quite possible that he will have surren¬ 
dered the ability to think, feel, or act in any sense 
that could be called his own. While Nee warns delegated 
authorities of the danger of spiritual pride, he pro¬ 
vides no mechanism by which an aberrant authority might 
be removed. Even a cursory glance at the cults bears 
out the dangers Inherent in this sort of authoritarian¬ 
ism. 

These are only a few of the areas in the thought of 
Watchman Nee which lend themselves to cultic abuse. Al- 
thou^ I cannot impute any malicious intent to Nee nor 
to those influenced by his teaching, from this brief 
survey I must conclude that trichotomy and its outwork¬ 
ing in spiritual hierarchy lead inexorably to a simplis¬ 
tic view of human nature, an authoritarian approach to 
Christian community, and a cultic abuse of power. 


103 



Notes 


^ David G, Myers, The Human Puzzle! Psychological Research and 
Christian Belief (San Francisco; Harper & Row, 1978), pp, 41-90. 

2 Watchman Nee, The Spiritual Man (New York; Christian Fellowship 
Publishers, 1968), 1;26. 

5 Mary E. McDonough, God*a Plan of Redemption (Boston; Hamilton 
Brothers, 1926), pp. v, 22. . 

^ Watchman Nee, The Release of the Spirit (Indianapolis; Sure 
Foundation, 1965), p. 6. 

5 Nee, The Spiritual Man , 1;27. 

^ C.I. Scofield, ed.. The New Scofield Reference Bible (New York; 
Oxford University Press, 1967), p. 1293. 

^ G.H. Pember, Earth’s Earliest Ages (New York; Fleming H. Revell, 
n.d.), pp. 107-108. 

® Nee, The Spiritual Man , 1;139. 

9 Ibid., 3;140. 

Ibid., 2;87. 

'•1 Ibid., 2;7. 

'•2 Ibid., 2;15. 

Ibid., 2;10. 

Two words need to be defined at this point. Nee and others use 
"soulical" to refer to the legitimate functions of the soul that God 
originally intended. Man is ’’soulish, ” on the other hand, when he is 
so governed by the soul that his whole being takes on its character. 
Cf. Nee, The Spiritual Man , 1;6. 

Nee, The Spiritual Man , 2;73. 

Ibid., 2:74. 

I'? Ibid., 2:77. 

■I® Ibid., 2:143. 

■>9 Ibid., 2:74, 177. 

Ibid., 1:32. 

21 Ibid., 2:106. 

Ibid., 2:107. 

23 Ibid., 2:113. 

2* Ibid., 2:111. 

25 Ibid., 2:109. 

2® Ibid., 2:102. 

22 Ibid., 2: chapter 2. 

28 

A word needs to be said about the origin of the concept of the 
"spiritual man." Watchman Nee's grandfather, Nga U-Cheng, was the 
second ordained Protestant minister in his province in China. Nga U- 
Cheng canre under the influence of the British missionary John L. Nev- 
ius. Nevius had written a Compendium of Theology wherein he advocated 
the trichotomous view of man; he promoted the related idea of the 
"spiritual man" because it paralleled the notion of the "superior man" 
found in the Confucian classics. (This relationship was suggested to 
me by Dana Roberts in a personal interview.) 

29 Dana Roberts, Understanding Watchman Nee (Plainfield, New Jer¬ 
sey; Logos International, 1981), p. 98. 

Nee, Spiritual Man, 1;27. 

•ZA -I — . . . .. ■ 

‘ Watchman Nee, The Latent Power of the Soul (New York; Christian 
Fellowship Publishers, 1972), p. 15. 

^2 Ibid., p. 33. 


104 



Ibid., p. 39. 

54 Nee, Spiritual Man , 1:146. 

55 Ibid., 1:112, 185. 

56 Ibid., 2:189. 

5'^ Ibid., 2:190. 

58 Ibid., 2:192. 

55 Ibid., 2:196. 

40 Ibid., 2:202. 

Ibid., 2:212. 

42 Ibid., 2:223. 

^5 Ibid., 2:235. 

44 Ibid., 2:240. 

*5 Ibid., 2:255. 

*4 Ibid., 3:7. 

45 Ibid. 

48 Ibid., 3:10-11. 

45 Ibid., 3:52. 

50 Ibid., 3:13. 

5'' Ibid., 3:15. 

52 Ibid., 3:30-36. 

55 Ibid., 3:45-61. 

54 Ibid., 3:65. 

55 Ibid., 3:75. 

56 Ibid., 3:77. 

55 Ibid., 3:78. 

58 Ibid., 3:80. 

55 Ibid., 3:82-83. 

40 Ibid., 3:96. 

41 Ibid., 3:102. 

42 Ibid., 3:105. 

45 Ibid., 3:107. 

44 Ibid., 3:126. 

45 Ibid., 3:136. 

46 Dana Roberts cites a statistic that, as of 1975, 440,000 copies 
of The Normal Christian Life had been printed in the American edition. 
There are perhaps 40 books by Nee, as well as countless books, tapes, 
and charts by other authors advocating trichotomy. This is no minor 
theological movement. 

Watchman Nee, Spiritual Authority (New York; Christian Fellow¬ 
ship Publishers, 1972). 

Ibid., p. 10. 

69 Ibid., p. 12. 

Ibid., p. 15. 

Ibid., p. 16. 

^2 Ibid., p. 29. 

73 Ibid., p. 61. 

7^ Ibid., pp. 61-69. 

75 Ibid., p. 149. 

76 Ibid., p. 153. 

77 Ibid., chapters 16, 17, 10. 

78 Ibid., p. 71. 

79 Angus I. Kinnear, Against the Tide; The Story of Watchman Nee 
(Fort Washington, Pennsylvania: Christian Literature Crusade, 1973), 


105 




Spiritual Authority ^ p. 80, 

Ibid., p. 81. 

Ibid., p. 126. 

Ibid., p. 121. 

Ibid., p. 85. 

85 Roberts, Understanding Watchman Nee , p. 103. 

^8 Nee, Spiritual Man , 2:21. 

87 Nee, Spiritual Authority , p. 94. 

88 Harold Bussell, "Why tvangelicals are Vulnerable to Cults," The 
Gordon 26 (June 1981): 6. 

8*9 Roberts, Understanding Watchman Nee , p, 18. 

Nee, Spiritual Man , 1:19, 

Ibid., 1:177-178. 

52 Neil T. Ouddy & the Spiritual Counterfeits Project, God-Men: An 
Inquiry into Witness Lee and the Local Church (Downers Grove, Illinois: 
InterVarsity Press, 1981), pp. 24, 31-80. 

55 Jack Sparks, The Mindbenders: A Look at Current Cults (Nash¬ 
ville: Thomas Nelson, 1977), p.226. 

Nee, Spiritual Man , 2:203. 




ATONEMENT AND MODEL: 

AN INVESTIGATION OF THE BIBLICAL LANGUAGE OF THE CROSS 
by George V. Harper 

Introduction 

AnseJiiu 'ihe vd.ll of Gbd ougtit to be a suffi¬ 
cient reason for us, vdhen he does anything, thou^ 
v^ cannot see why he does it. For the will of Gbd 
is never Irrational. 

Boso. lhat is true, if it be granted 
that Gbd does vdsh the thing in question; but miy 
vdLll never allcw that Gbd does not wish arything if 
it be inoonsistent with reason. ^ 

Is the orthodox doctrine of the atonement, as many 
have argued over the centuries, inconsistent vn.th sound 
reason? Does it credit the Father vd.th actions which, 
if they were possible, would convict him of injustice 
and tyranny? Does the concept of vicarious, substitu¬ 
tionary atonement make assertions about God which border 
on blasphemy,2 or is it, as many have asserted,^ at the 
very heart of the New Testament authors * understanding 
of the redemptive work of Christ? In the course of over 
four centuries* defense of what they accepted as apos¬ 
tolic doctrine against the attacks of such men as Soz- 
zini, Schleiermacher, bushnell, and others, orthodox 
Protestant theologians have sometimes conceded more to 
their adversaries than they need have, intending somehow 
to "vindicate" God against these charges. To pursue 
C.S. Lewis's helpful image,^ where opponents of substi¬ 
tution have hailed God into court, charging him vlth in¬ 
justice, malice, and inconstancy toward his Son and his 
creation, his defenders have too often been content to 
leave him in the dock and attempt by clever cross- 
examination to clear his name, rather than simply over¬ 
turning the entire trial as a farce. For example, when 
Fausto Sozzini put forward the assertion that the con¬ 
cept of vicarious atonement was irrational, incoherent, 
imiooral, and Impossible, Hugo Grotius responded by ad¬ 
vancing his "governmental” theory, intending to defend 
God against Sozzini*s calumnies while preserving the ob¬ 
jective ground of justification, yet unfortunately 
yielding much of the terrain to Sozzini uncontested. 
His model, rooted in Renaissance concepts of kingship 
and law, reduced God to a petty tyrant who, faced vlth 
an Incipient rebellion and wishing to pardon the con¬ 
spirators, seizes an innocent third party for torture 
and execution as a means of displaying his rage, then 
feels free to release those trvily guilty.^ 

Grotius was not alone: other orthodox theologians 
before and since have felt the allure of rationalistic 
apologetic. Why not lay hold of their enemies * weapons 
in their ovm defence? J. I. Packer notes that in their 
defense of orthodoxy "many Reformed theologians were 


107 



conceding the ••• assumption that every aspect of God’s 
work of reconciliation will be exhaustively explicable 
in terms of a natural theology of divine government, 
drawn from the world of contemporary legal and political 
thought. Thus, in their zeal to show themselves ration¬ 
al, they [become] rationalistic.”^ In his pamphlet. 
What Did the Cross Achieve? , Packer has argued that this 
well-meaning pattern of rationalistic defense, reflected 
in the work of such giants as Francis Turretin, A.A. 
Hodge, L. Berkhof, and others, has introducedinto their 
understandings of the atonement some unfortunate distor¬ 
tions and mutilations.^ While their positions are far 
more Biblical than the heterodoxies of such individuals 
as Bushnell, Abelard, and Aulen, still their accounts 
are flatter, more streamlined, less complicated than the 
Biblical data for which they must account. Given this 
tendency to explication, to speculations as to the **how” 
as well as the "what” of redemption,® the temptation has 
been strong for theologians who wish to deny the vicari¬ 
ous nature of the atonement to create a false dichotomy, 
juxtaposing the orthodox view, usually in caricatured 
representation, with some "motif” drawn from the Scrip¬ 
tures which is not easily accommodated to a desiccated 
version of orthodoxy. This provides the rationale for a 
quick rejection of substitution.9 Packer suggests that 
th e proper response of the orthodox theologian ought to 
be, not the rationalistic line of Grotius and others, 
but an openness to the diversity of the Biblical lan¬ 
guage of the atonement, an understanding of the sort of 
knowledge ("faith-knowledge") Scripture makes available 
to us, and acceptance of the analogical nature of reli¬ 
gious language.Packer argues that a thorough expli¬ 
cation of the concept of analogy in Scriptural language 
leads to the realization that "the verbal units of 
Christian speech are ’models’ comparable to the thought- 
models of modem physics. Further, "the mystery of 
God is more than any one model, even the best, can ex¬ 
press.... [A]11 the knowle (fee we can have of the atone¬ 
ment is of a mystery about which we can only think and 
speak by models, and which remains a mystery when all is 
said and done...."l^ 

Some have argued that the concept of analogy in re¬ 
ligious language is a dangerous one that bears the bit¬ 
ter fruit of doubt and skepticism. Rather, the argument 
runs, if our knowledge is to be true in any meaningful 
sense of the term, it must be univocal in predication 
even if limited in scope. These individuals see the 
"modified model" concept of religious language advanced 
by Ramsey, Barbour, and others as a dangerous concession 
to empiricism, leading to skepticism and ultimately is¬ 
suing in agnosticism.^^ But is this so? What justifi¬ 
cation can be advanced in defense of the concept of re¬ 
ligious analogy? What are the implications of the pro¬ 
posals of Ramsey and Barbour for our understanding of 


108 



God’s work in Christ? The purpose of this article is to 
provide a brief assessment of the value of Packer’s 
"modified model" approach to the language of atonement. 
Further, in light of this position the work of other 
theologians will be examined. How well do the views of 
Anselm, Turretin, Bushnell, Charles Hodge, L. Berkhof, 
and Aulen account for the diverse language of Scrip¬ 
ture? To what extent do they shape the data of Scrip¬ 
ture to fit their systems? Although, with Packer, we 
hold that "penal substitution is ••• the heart of the 
matter,"1^ the hub about which the language of Scripture 
turns, we insist with him that "the atonement is a mys¬ 
tery •••, one aspect of the total mystery of God."l^ As 
Leon Morris notes. 

The chief inpression that a stuity of the atonanent 
leases with us is that (£ the naiy-sidedness of 
Christ's WDik for men. Vtiea He died for us on the 
cross. He did somethipg so infinitely w^ndeifiiL 
that it is iapossible to oomprehend it in its full¬ 
ness. HoNever man's need be understood, that need 
is fully and abundantly met in Christ. Ihe 
Testaaoent writers are like men ^o ransack their 
vocabulaiy to find words vhich will brii^ out some 
small fraction of the mi^ty thipg that Gbd has 
done for us. 

God and Language 

How is it possible for man to speak of God? Modern 
linguistic philosophers from Wittgenstein to Ayer and 
Flew have insisted that human language cannot convey 
meaningful information about the transcendent.But 
against the positivistic fashion for doubting man's abi¬ 
lity to speak significantly of God (or anything else), 
J. I. Packer notes that the Bible claims to be the writ¬ 
ten word of God (Jer. 36:6, 8 , 11) in the words of man 
(Jer. 36:10).^^ God's prophets speak God's word to man, 
and speak of God to man with divine authority. Scrip¬ 
ture claims for Itself more than merely equivocal, in¬ 
ternal significance: it has propositional content. 2G 
Still, the insistence of Duns Scotus and others that 
Biblical language must be univocal^^ claims too much: 
Aquinas is correct to note that terms and concepts se¬ 
lected from the realm of creation must be analogical 
when predicated of God: "It is impossible for anything 
to be predicated univocally of God and a creature. 
Bavinck notes that the terms we use to speak of God, no 
matter how abstract ("The One," "Spirit," etc.), are al¬ 
ways anthropomorphisms.^^ Human language must be 
"stretched" in some fashion. 

This "stretching" of human terms with a univocal 
predication in our order to give them a second, analogi¬ 
cal predication in the transcendent order closely re- 


109 



sembles the mathematical process of "mapping,” in which 
one set is "mapped" onto a second by means of a mathema¬ 
tical ftinction which assigns to each element of the 
first set a corresponding element of the second. Thus, 
Bernard Hamm defines analogy as "that conceptual device 
whereby something in one universe of discourse is em¬ 
ployed to explain, illustrate, or prove something in 
another universe of discourse.Helpfully, Ramm sug¬ 
gests that human (analogical) knowledge of God repre¬ 
sents a "map of the spiritual order. Pursuing the 

analogy, we note that two-dimensional maps can never 
make univocal assertions about the three-dimensional 
terrain they describe. Rather, they give analogical but 
adequate descriptions of geographic relationships which 
the user must translate into the terms of the real world 
by means of a scale and compass. The Scriptures des¬ 
cribe God and his workings just as the map describes a 
tract of land, analogically: and yet this description 
entails no slide into equivocation. These analogically 
applied terms preserve their objective significance 
( contra Ian Ramsey^7) because of their univocal concep- 
tion, and because God himself has chosen the function 
by which Scripture applies creaturely terms in a modi¬ 
fied sense to the transcendent. "In special revelation 
God chooses that element in our universe of discourse 
which can serve to convey the truth in his universe of 

discourse. ”29 

This process of mapping terms from the created or¬ 
der into the transcendent realm by means of "stretching" 
them is what Norman Gelsler calls "qualified model lan¬ 
guage. By means of such language the Bible is able 

to communicate to us information on the atonement and 
other aspects of the divine economy which, while neither 
univocal in predication nor exhaustive in scope, bears a 
"sufficiently univocal element of truth”and is ade¬ 
quate to man's needs. But this information is gained at 
the expense of a certain amount of distortion inherent 
in any model: returning to Ramm's analogy, in choosing a 
model for the atonement, just as in choosing a global 
map, the only option is the sort of distortion one 
wants. Certain elements will assume a prominence the 
Scriptures do not give them, while others will be passed 
over.^^ 

Similarly, Ian Barbour notes (following Wittgen¬ 
stein) that we do not merely see : we "see as."^^ Our 
interpretive framework interacts with our world of dis¬ 
course: data will be expected to be congruent with our 
model, and incongruencies will be more likely to be 
treated as anomalies than as falsifying our assump¬ 
tions. (This is no less true in physics than in theo¬ 
logy. Thus, any model will automatically narrow our 

horissons: chaos is exchanged for coherence within narrow 
bounds. Returning to our analogy, a map which reproduc- 
ed all the characteristics of a given unit of terrain 


110 



Would be fully as complicated as the terrain itself, and 
useless as a map. Instead, the cartographer produces 
specialized maps of various sorts: there are maps which 
detail elevation, gradients, soil covers, subsurface 
minerals, commercial and political boundaries, popula¬ 
tion densities, and so on. No one map is a complete 
analogue of the terrain it describes, but within its own 
limits each will give accurate information. In the same 
way, interpretive models which speak of God and his be¬ 
havior towards his creation give us coherence and intel¬ 
ligibility at the expense of distortion and limita¬ 
tion. 

The only appropriate response to this situation is 
to recognize that in dealing with a topic such as the 
atonement, to which hundreds of passages throughout the 
Bible are addressed, no one model will be able to do 
justice to all the data. Speaking of the atonement, 
Leon Morris notes that 

• ••the mind of man is not able to cooprehend all 
the variojs facets of New Testanent teadiirg simid.- 
taneously. tl^xy of the atonement so far put 
forward has ever been able to wLn universal assent, 
and it is fairly safe to say that none ever will, 
ikid this is not because the teaching of the 
Testanent is not clear...• [T]he fact is that it 
is too great in extent and too complex in character 
for us to conprehend it all in one theoiy. If we 
do sicceed in formuLatiqg a neat theoiy, we do so 
at the espeose of a good deal of the evidence. 

The consequence of this is that the teaching of the 
Bible on the atonement can be handled adequately only by 
a multiple-model approach. Several special-purpose maps 
may appear radically different, yet each will accurate¬ 
ly—^albeit in its own terms—describe certain features 
of the same tract of land, and together the maps will 
provide us with information adequate to our needs: sim¬ 
ilarly, Scripture’s several perspectives on the atone¬ 
ment may appear at first glance incongruent, yet we may 
be confident that each will successfully integrate a 
certain portion of the data, and that together they will 
adequately describe God’s redemptive work without mutual 
contradiction. This sheaf of qualified models dealing 
with aspects of the atonement will represent complemen¬ 
tary perspectives intertwining to form one extended and 
internally coherent model. We note here that the penal 
substitutionary model (or ”meta-model") of the atone¬ 
ment, when properly formulated, alone of all the models 
advanced through the centuries does justice to the great 
wealth and diversity of Biblical language used of God’s 
reconciling act in Christ. 

Given the perspective on theological language out¬ 
lined in this section, what can be said about the vari- 

111 



ous theologies of the atonement formulated over the cen¬ 
turies by the doctors of the church? This will be 
treated in the next section. 

Views of the Atonenent 
!• Anselm 

Anselm of Canterbury was both the greatest of the 
medieval heirs of Augustine and the progenitor of the 
scholastic tradition which was to culminate in the work 
of Thomas Aquinas. In his Cur Pens Homo Anselm ad¬ 
dressed the question why it had been necessary for God 
to become man: was the atonement merely one possibility 
among many, or was it a dark necessity grounded in God's 
nature and man's plight? Anselm argued that since on 
the one hand none but man ought to make satisfaction for 
his sins, while on the other none but God is able to 
make sacrifice, it was necessary that the Son should 
himself take on the form of a man bom of woman: only 
one who was both True Man and True God could make the 
atoning sacrifice which God's honor and man's sins 
demanded.Anselm's careful elucidation of the concept 
of satisfaction and its implications for the doctrine of 
the atonement was enormously Important: not only did it 
define Catholic orthodoxy, but it provided the basis 
from which the Reformers developed their full-orbed 
understanding of redemption. 

Still, Anselm's argument is not without its limita¬ 
tions. While he rightly focussed on the significance 
and necessity of Christ's death for the sinner, he took 
little account of the numerous texts which speak of the 
sinner's death "in Christ.” In consequence, the death 
of Christ is spoken of in indefinite terms which reflect 
the evolving scholastic concept of a treasury of mer¬ 
it in his death Christ offered to God what he was 
under no obligation to lose,^^ and thus accrued a limit¬ 
less store of merit which might be applied to make sat¬ 
isfaction for the sins of those who turn to Christ: "God 
can reject none who come to him in [Christ's] name.”^^ 
Again, the focus of Anselm's attention rested on the 
concept of atonement as a transaction between Christ the 
God-man and God the Fatherconsequently, he took 
little account of what Aulen calls the "classic” motif 
and notes only in passing the example which Christ has 
set for us by his faithfulness even unto death. His 
model thus falls to address much of the Biblical data. 

Anselm founded his argument on a concept of sin and 
the honor of God which strikes us as peculiar. "Sin" is 
whatever does not render to God his due;^^ God's "honor" 
demands that the debt be made good by the debtor. 
From this flows the argument noted above. It should be 
noted that Anselm's theology reflects the social pat- 


112 



terns of his time: the feudal lord and vassal were bound 
to each other by iron bands of mutual responsibility and 
obligation.God becomes the lord of the manor and man 
becomes his tenant. Man owes his God a vast debt he 
cannot possibly repay, yet ties of obligation demand 
that reparation somehow be made: if not, man will face 
just punishment. The debt cannot be forgotten.50 Xhe 
fundamental objection to Anselm’s model is that it roots 
the atonement, not in God’s love nor mercy nor even in 
his sovereign will, but rather in this feudal concept: 
God must act to preserve his honor. Still, as Berkhof 
notes, "in many respects [Anselm’s] theory points in the 
right direction. "51 What he ' aays he says well, but the 
Scriptures say considerably more.^^ 

Turretln 

Francis Turretin, heir to John Calvin as pastor and 
theologian to the churches of Geneva, summarized and 
systematized the work of proceeding generations of ke- 
formed scholars in his magnum opus, the Institutio Theo~ 
logiae Elencticae ( 1674 ).53 As the greatest of the 
Protestant scholastics he has since drawn to himself 
more than his share of opprobrium; still, his under¬ 
standing of the atonement is a striking improvement on 
that of Anselm. First, he defines sin as "a debt which 
we are bound to pay to divine justice," "a principle of 
enmity, whereby we hate God and he becomes our enemy,” 
and "a crime against the government of the universe by 
which ••• we become deserving of everlasting death and 
malediction. "54 This sweeping conception is a vast im¬ 
provement over Anselm’s idea of sin as a failure to 
render to God his due (see above). Again, Turretin 
grounds the atonement squarely in a consideration of the 
attributes of God: in the atonement God displays, not 
merely his need to preserve his honor, but the full ex¬ 
tent of his mercy, justice, wisdom, truth, and other 
perfections. ^5 And it is interesting to note that, 
while Turretin sets little store by the "classic" or 
"triumphalist" motif,he by no means excludes the ex- 
en 9 )lary model of the atonement: he notes that Christ 
"had a twofold end in his death and sufferings: one, the 
payment of a price of redemption for us to justice; the 
other, to set before us an example worthy of imitation. 
Hence his sufferings may be viewed either as satisfac¬ 
tory or as exemplary.••• [T]he mentioning of the one 
end does not exclude but supposes the other. "57 The 
"Latin" theory is evidently more complicated than Aulen 
was willing to allow (see below). 

Still, Turretin’s argument is not without its 
flaws. Chief among them is the heavy reliance noted by 
J.I. Packer (see above) on the almost Grotian "natural 
theology of divine government, drawn from the world of 
contemporary legal and political thought.”^® This is 

113 



most plainly displayed in the course of his considera¬ 
tion of the satisfaction which man's sin requires* the 
relations of Gk>d to the sinner* and whether there be the 
possibility of a substitute. Repeatedly* when pressed 
by objections to substitution* Turretin turns to the 
human courtroom for some precedent by means of which he 
may vindicate God the judge who is also the justifier.59 
But this line of argument not only establishes a dan¬ 
gerous precedent: in fact* it will bear but little 
weight (cf. Packer's assessment cited above). Turre¬ 
tin 's exposition presumes (erroneously) that human con¬ 
cepts of justice and judgment may be predicated uni- 
vocally of God. Even so* his formulation (with that of 
the Reformers) represents an important advance over 
Anselm's. 


3. Bushnell 

Horace Bushnell (1802-1876)* Congregational minis¬ 
ter and prominent theologian* over the span of a long 
career advocated provocative theories relating to the 
process of conversion* the nature of the supernatural* 
and the doctrine of the atonement. His theology of 
the atonement* elaborated in The Vicarious Sacrifice 
(1866)* is one example of what Berkhof labels the "moral 
influence** theory: Jesus' death on the cross was '*merely 
a manifestation of the love of God* suffering in and 
with his sinful creatures* and taking upon himself their 
woes and griefs. **^^ Since Bushnell shares a number of 
hidden prejudices with many contemporary theologians* it 
is helpful to examine his proposals concerning the 
atonement detailed in The Vicarious Sacrifice. 

Bushnell was certainly a man of his time. If the 
great concern of Anselm was that obligations be met and 
God's honor be preserved (see above)* Bushnell's was 
that redemption be understood in a way which "shocks no 
moral sentiment* and violates no principle of natural 
reason.If Anselm's God is a feudal lord* Bushnell's 
is a constitutional monarch who is as much under law as 
are his subjects: "there was law before God's will* and 
before his instituting act; viz.* that necessary* ever¬ 
lasting* ideal* law of RIGHT* which* simply to think* is 
to be forever obliged by it.... [It] is the same to 
created souls in all orders* as to God uncreated* and 
the same to God as to them ... God and all moral natures 
exist ... under this ideal* necessary law...."^^ 

God is subject to this transcendent "law before 
government*"6^ which interestingly carries no penal 
strictures, while his creatures* in addition* are sub¬ 
ject to the law of his will* which does. Having ar¬ 
gued thus* Bushnell is then able to assert a distinction 
between God's justice and his righteousness: God's jus¬ 
tice pertains to the penal ordinances he has established 
to govern men, while his righteousness has to do with 


114 



the "law before [his] will."66 Accordingly, "instituted 
law is no necessary precondition of redemption.... 
[Redemption] must have some primary and even principal 
reference to the law before government, and not to any 
instituted law or statute, or judicial penalty existing 
under that."^^ "Christian justification has ... no 
reference whatever to justice ... or to any compensation 
of justice. "^6 Thus, God need not punish the sins of 
his qreatures:69 jjj^y forgive them freely if they will 
but turn to him. Indeed, Bushnell recoils from the idea 
that God might "put evil upon a wrong-doer, just because 
he is bad and according to his badness, apart from all 
uses to the man himself, or to others, or to the govern¬ 
ment he violates."^0 Bushnell's thought is colored by 
the penological Innovations of his day:7i presumably God 
administers Hell as a penitentiary, not a prison! But, 
as C.S. Lewis and others have, noted, retribution is of 
the essence of punishment: discipline which is not 
merited is ipso facto unfair. 

In Bushnell's natural theology it is not so much 
the crucifixion as the incarnation that is central. ^3 
In becoming man the Logos fully enters into man's 
plight, but in his death on the cross he fulfills an ob¬ 
ligation, not to man, nor to the Father, but only to 
himself. Strictly speaking, no atonement is neces¬ 
sary. If Christ makes a "vicarious sacrifice" (as 
Bushnell has redefined the terms: neither vicarious nor 
sacrificial!) on the cross, the Holy Spirit,the good 
angels, 76 and indeed all redeemed souls77 have their own 
Gethsemane and Calvary! The path of true discipleship 
is the path of vicarious sacrifice. "In what is called 
his vicarious sacrifice, Christ, as we have seen, simply 
fulfills what belongs universally to love; doing neither 
more nor less than what the common standard of holiness 
and right requires. "76 This is nothing but a bloated 
restatement of Abelard's moral influence theory. 

Bushnell is able to advance his theory as the guid¬ 
ing principle of redemption only after he has excluded 
vicarious penal substitution. The form his argument 
takes is revealing: repeatedly, he reduces orthodoxy to 
a feeble caricature which he assaults with ad hominem 
arguments: Christ is "a third being, coming in between 
us and God to compose our difficulty with him, by gain¬ 
ing him as it were to softer terms. ”79 Bushnell re¬ 
coils. "Does then God's right hand offer pains to his 
left, and so make expiation for the sins of the world? 
How many Gods have we?"6C At any rate, imputation is 
not possible: Christ "can not become guilty for us. 
Neither, as God is a just being, can he be any how 
punishable in our place.... *’61 But why? For no better 
reason than that this "offends every strongest sentiment 
of our nature.Indeed, "all God's moral sentiments 
would be revolted by ttiat. "63 Bushnell describes ortho¬ 
dox: as "dogmatic solutions”®^ (but does anyone claim 

115 



that they solve anything?), ”a dogma of three lines” ^5 
which is helpless to account for the breadth of Scrip¬ 
ture. In response, we first note that Bushnell's own 
heavily rationalistic scheme does no better a job of ac¬ 
counting for the multi-faceted language of Scripture 
than does even his heavy-handed parody of orthodoxy. 
Further, as should already be clear, the argument that 
defenders of substitution, by having regularly turned 
aside to take account (particularly in their devotions) 
of other terminology, have undercut their own case®” 
does not bear examination: we have already Insisted that 
the atonement is best addressed by a multip le- model 
scheme. And, as he should have noted, one of the most 
poignant notes of devotion sounded in the Bible and in 
the hymns of all ages®^ is that of devotion to the one 
who "loved me and gave himself for me." (Gal. 2:20) In 
short, by focussing on a small number of texts in the 
light of a heavily rationalistic perspective derived 
from the cultural patterns of his day, Bushnell has 
elaborated a framework which can accommodate the bulk of 
the scriptural language only by cutting the heart out of 
such terms as "sacrificial" and "vicarious." 

4* Charles Hodge 

Charles Hodge, leading American theologian of the 
nineteenth century and giant of Old Princeton, has had a 
great and continuing influence on conservative orthodoxy 
through his Systematic Theology (1872-73) and other 
writings.®® Especially since his thought has certain 
links to that of Turretin,®^ a brief consideration of 
his exposition of the atonement will be helpful. As is 
appropriate, Hodge*s treatment centers on the ideas of 
substitution, expiation, and sacrifice: by the "objec¬ 
tive" work of Christ on the cross, man’s sins are covet¬ 
ed and God’s justice and mercy are reconciled.Still, 
other aspects of the Scriptural language are not ne¬ 
glected: Christ redeems us from the law and its power, 
but also from the power of sin and Satan’s domination. 92 
Remarking on the scope of the orthodox doctrine, Hodge 
notes that 

.. • these hunanly devised scheDoes of redEnoption 
... vhile they leave out the essential idea of ex¬ 
piation, or satisfaction to justice ty vlcariGus 
pimshnent, without \Mdh saltation is impossible, 
and reconciliation with a just God is inconceiv¬ 
able, .. • contain no element of influence or poK^r 
wtiidi does not belong in a hi^ier d^ree to the 
Scriptural and Church doctrine. Viiatever there is 
of pcwer in a perfectly sinless life, of a life of 
self-sacrifice and devotion to the service of Gtxi 
and good of nan, is to be found in the Churdi 
doctrine. Whatever there is of pcwer in the 


116 



prolonged eadiibttioa of a love passes kncw- 
led^. Is to be found here. Wiatever there is of 
pcwer in the truths ^ch Christ taq^t, and ^^ch 
he sealed with his blood, truths either before or 
entirely vnkno&Ki, or only inperfectly ^prehended, 
belongs of course to the doctrine which the Church 
universal has ever held, ikid whatever there is of 
reality in the doctrine of our nystical inion, and 
of our participation of the nature of Christ 
throng the inctelting of the Holy Ghost, belongs 
to the Scriptural doctrine, without the blurring 
and enfeebling effects of modem speculatiai. 

Obviously this is no streamlined, rationalistic view of 
the atonement. 

Further, it is refreshing to hear Hodge state 
clearly that the plain affirmation of Scri,pture, and not 
an appeal to natural reason, common experience, or moral 
sentiment, is to be the ultimate determinant of Chris¬ 
tian doctrine. "If the Bible teaches that the innocent 
may bear the guilt of the actual transgressor, that He 
may endure the penalty incurred in his place, then it is 
in vain to say that this cannot be done.'*^^ 

Ihe Scriptures teach that something more was neces¬ 
sary for the salvation of men than moral influences 
and impressions, or the revelation and confirmation 
of truth, somethLqg very different from nystical 
influenoe on the nature of man. Vliat was neoessaiy 
was precisely what was done. Ihe Son of God assua- 
ed our nature, took the place of sinners, bore the 
curse of the Ibh in their stead, and therety ren¬ 
dered it possible that God should be just and yet 
the justifier of the uigodly. If sudi be the 
Scrlptire doctrine, all these schanes of redemption 
may be dismissed without consideration. 

This modest. Scripture-grounded, complicated view of the 
atonement is a welcome contrast to the tendencies in the 
work of other Reformed theologians (cf. Turretin, above, 
and Berkhof, below). 


5. Berkhof 

Lords Berkhof (1873-1957), prominent Reformed theo¬ 
logian and systematician, in much of his thought follow¬ 
ed the line of Bavinck and Kuyper, although he was also 
influenced by the Old Princeton theologians, Warfield 
and the Hodges.His Systematic Theology (1939) is 
still widely used in evangelical seminaries. His devel¬ 
opment of the doctrine of the atonement therefore makes 
an interesting contrast to that of Charles Hodge. Berk¬ 
hof effectively demonstrates the inadequate understand¬ 
ing of orthodoxy that invariably underlies the various 

117 



heterodox understandings of the atonement:for ex¬ 
ample, he notes that the cross effected no change in the 
inner being of God. The atonement is not the moving 
cause of God’s love toward sinners; rather, the atone¬ 
ment is the necessary expression of that love. 98 There 
is much else of value in Berkhof *s treatment which might 
be noted. 

Still, in several important respects his exposition 
is flawed by a rationalistic streak which leads Packer 
to remark that "Berkhof *s zeal to show that God did 
nothing illegal or unjust makes a strange impression on 
the post-Watergate reader."^9 in the course of dealing 
with various objections to substitution, he repeatedly 
turns to human experience for precedents which might ex¬ 
onerate God: he appeals to "law, as understood and ad¬ 
ministered by men in all lands, "the facts of 

life,"i^l "actual life.”l^^ In dealing with objec¬ 

tions to the concept of satisfaction he takes an uncon¬ 
vincing stab at making the transfer of God’s wrath from 
the sinner to Christ appear "quite natural.This 
rationalistic reliance on natural theology is just as 
fraught with dangers for Berkhof as it was for Grotius 
and Turretin. Hodge’s modest approach, setting the 
clear assertions of Scripture over against the appeals 
of those who wish to deny the justice or even the neces¬ 
sity of atonement or the possibility of penal substitu^ 
tion, is to be preferred. Orthodoxy is in need not so 
much of a rationalistic defense as of a clear, scriptur¬ 
al, positive exposition. 


6« Aulen 

Gustaf Aulen’s provocative little work on the doc¬ 
trine of the atonement, Christus Victor (ET: 1931), has 
had a wide circulation in recent years. Since Aulen’s 
(mis)understanding of orthodoxy and repeated use of 
false dichotomy is typical of the way in which many 
theologians have approached the atonement in recent 
years, an examination of his analysis will be helpful. 
Aulen bases his argument on a reevaluation of the views 
of various doctors of the church, including Anselm, 
Irenaeus, Athanasius, Luther, and others. Since the 
historical analysis forms such a large part of Aulen’s 
argument, it is curious to note that Aulen repeatedly 
misunderstands the clear sense of the documents he ex¬ 
amines. In several instances a selective reading of a 
narrow group of texts allows him to maintain a position 
which would have been untenable had he ranged farther a- 
field. To name only the two most obvious examples, both 
Anselm and Luther are badly mishandled. 

As has been noted above, Anselm’s position is not 
without its limitations, but surely he does not deserve 
the treatment he has received at the hands of Bushnell 
(in Vicarious Sacrifice: by means of some pretzel logic 


118 



Bushnell manages to claim Anselm as an exponent of his 
moral influence theory!and Aulen* Aulen insists 
(against R, Herrmann's analysis) that Anselm considers 
the atonement to be a transaction "from below," from man 
to God, in which man offers to God the satisfaction for 
sins that honor demands.With Herrmann, and against 
Aulen, we insist that this is a dangerously monocular 
view of Anselm's argument: the atonement is the work of 
one who is both God and Man ( Cur Deus Homo 11:6, 7), so 
that it is proper to speak of it as the work of man (I 
Cor. 15:21) and yet "from first to last a work of God." 
(Col. 1:20)The fact that Aulen sees Anselm's insis¬ 
tence that man must make satisfaction as irreconcilable 
with the undeniable fact that "the atoning work of 
Christ [is] the work of God Himself from start to fin¬ 
ish" only suggests that Aulen's Christology is a bit 
shaky. 

Aulen's misunderstanding of Anselm is related to 
his misunderstanding of the orthodox conception of the 
atonement—^what he labels the "Latin" theory. His argu¬ 
ment that this theory, by insisting that satisfaction 
for sin has been offered by man (the Man!), fails to 
take sin seriously and misses the significance of the 
incamationlO^ falls to the criticism noted above: rath¬ 
er than standing in opposition to each other, satisfac¬ 
tion is joined inseparably to incarnation and substitu¬ 
tion. Indeed, Aulen himself saw the weight of this ar¬ 
gument—^he noted that if Herrmann's analysis of Anselm 
were correct, "there [would be] evidently insufficient 
ground for the sharp distinction that we have made be¬ 
tween Anselm's theory and the classic idea of the Atone¬ 
ment" —that is, the orthodox doctrine of Christ's 
penal substitutionary atonement would be in fact the 
teaching of the New Testament. It seems clear that this 
is the case. 

Aulen's misinterpretation of Anselm and the "Latin" 
model in general is only surpassed by his colossal mis¬ 
reading of Luther, whom he claims as the greatest prior 
exponent of his "classic" motif, It is certainly 

true that Luther made much of what Aulen terms the dra¬ 
matic and dual nature of the atonement, in which God 
himself overcomes the forces of evil which have held man 
captive and thus reconciles him to himselfbut these 
feat ires hardly need exclude vicarious substitution and 
penal satisfaction. Rather, God's triumph over Satan 
and reconciliation of man rest on the foundation of the 
vicarious penal offering of Christ, the God-Man. 
Indeed, Luther was well aware of this: the themes of 
substitution and satisfaction are fully as prominent in 
his writings as are the ideas of triumph and reconcilia¬ 
tion. Luther says of Christ, "He had to take our 

place, become a sacrifice for us, bear and atone for the 
wrath and curse under which we had fallen. "He of¬ 

fers himself as a sacrifice by the shedding of His blood 

119 



and dis death in order to pay for our sins. Though 

similar citations might be multiplied without end, two 
more will suffice. Luther argues: 

All the prophets did foresee in spirit, that Christ 
should becoDoe the greatest transgressor, nurderer, 
adulterer, thief, rebel, hLasphaner, etc., that 
ever ^s • • • for he being made a sacrifice, for the 
sins of the vhole w^rld, is not new an iimooent 
person and without sins .... [0]tr most nerdfii 
Father ••• sent his only Son into the world and 
laid qpon him the sins of all men, sayii^: Be thou 
Peter that denies; IhiiL tb^ persecutor, blasphaoe 
and cruel oppressor; Ihvid that adulterer; that 
sinner whidi did eat the ^>ple in Paradise; that 
thief v^ch hanged qpon tlie cross; and, briefly, be 
thou the person which hath oomnitted the sins of 
all men; see therefore that thou pgy and satisfy 
for than. Here now cometh the la^ and saith: I 
find him a sinner ... therefore let him die upon 
the cross 

Luther insists that 

• «. there are only two resting places for sin: it 
either rests on you, weighing 3^ down; or it lies 
qpon dulst, the lanb of Cbd. If the load is on 
your shoulders, yon are lost, but if it rests on 
Christ, you are free and sswed. i'faw choose! 

It is not clear of what Luther is speaking if not 
vicarious substitution and penal satisfaction. 

Conclusions 

By now it should have become clear that certain 
problems surface regularly in discussions of the atoner 
ment. One is a tendency to dichotomize, to set one 
scriptural theme against another, to take one perspec¬ 
tive on the atonement as an exhaustive description of 
God’s work in Christ. Another is the rationalizing ten¬ 
dency that tries to explain on the basis of hum^ prece- 
dent how it is that God can be at the same time Just and 
the justifier of the faithful. These observations lend 
support to our thesis that Biblical language is analogi¬ 
cal and that only a meta-model composed of a nimiber of 
interdependent qualified models can do justice to fhe 
Biblical data on the atonement. Words fail us wlien we 
confront God’s mighty work of reconciliation won at the 
cost of his Son on Calvary. No single human perspective 
can hope to encompass this enormous fact. The Scrip¬ 
tures give us various accounts of what Christ accoiflP“ 
lished for his church through his atoning life and 
death, but in the end we are confronted with mystery! 


120 



”For, in some ineffable way, God loved us and yet was 
angry toward us at the same time, until he became 
reconciled to us in Christ, 

God is not man. He holds together in absolute 
unity and simplicity (this is intended in the technical, 
scholastic sense) attributes which could never be recon¬ 
ciled in finite creatures, 1^9 Rationalizing theologians 
have never fully understood this, for it is this truth 
which makes all efforts at univocal discourse about God 
hopeless. Analogical language becomes the only means of 
speaking about God, and qualified models become the only 
device by which we may describe his attributes and his 
acts of love, mercy, and righteous judgment toward his 
creation. As we have argued, this need not entail skep¬ 
ticism: it simply recognizes that we "must, therefore, 
never seek an exhaustive formulation in any one 
theory,The only alternative to the qualified model 
would appear to be the theory which aims at comprehen¬ 
sion and rationalization; but the history of theory- 
construction is a sad one. As B,B, Warfield notes, 

'theories of atonanent* have been constructed, 
each thrauipg into eophasis a fr^gnent of the 
truth, to the neglect or denial of the 
conplementajy elements, 

Nathan Wood summarizes: 

Nsthipg but the profoundest realism will satisfy us 
on Galvaiy* Ihe Divine life cf the Son of Gbd 
given on Chl\ary voas neither a needless pirchase 
nor a draonatizatioa. It ms the my he for^e. 

It was God's forgiveness. It ms the intensive Act 
of forgiveness, Ihe death of Jesus did not precede 
and purchase, nor did it follow and announce, the 
Divine forgiveness. It mis the Divinely lovlpg and 
righteous my in Wiich Qxl forgave, not brushipg 
aside sins and broken laws with an easy sueep of a 
Divine hand, but bearing their outcome in almighty 
self-sacrifice on the cross. It was His righteous 
forgiveness, 


Amen 



Notes 


Anselm, Gur Deus Homo, in Basic Works, trans. S.N, Deane (La 
Salle, IL: Open Court, 1962), p. 190. 

2 G.W.H. Lampe, "The Atonements Law and Love," in Soundings, ed. 
Alec Vidler (Cambridges Cambridge University Press, 1962), p. 187 f, 
cited by J.I. Packer, What Did the Cross Achieve? (Leicester, England: 
Theological Students' Fellowship, 1974), p. 28. 

5 Leon Morris, The Cross in the New Testament (Grand Rapids: 
Eerdmans, 1965), pp. 379-381, 404-405. 

^ C.S. Lewis, "God in the Dock," in God in the Dock, ed. Walter 
Hooper (Grand Rapids; Eerdmans, 1970), p. 244. 

5 See the analysis in L. Berkhof, Systematic Theology , 4th ed. 
(Grand Rapids; Eerdmans, 1976), pp. 388-389. 

^ Packer, p. 5. 

^ Ibid., pp. 5-6. 

® Ibid., pp. 6-7, 26. 

^ See Gustaf Aulen's argument in Ghriatus Victor (New Yorks 
Macmillan, 1969), summarized pp. 145-159. 

Packer, pp. 6-13. 

Ibid., p. 11. 

'•2 Ibid., p. 13. 

Carl F.H. Henry, Gpd, Revelation, and Authority , 6 vols. (Waco, 
Texas; Word, 1976-83), Is pp. 225-244. 

Scott Hahn, "J.I. Packer's Dissatisfaction with Satisfaction" 
(Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary, 1980), p. 13. 

Packer, p. 45. 

Ibid., p. 7. 

Morris, p. 419. 

Cited in Norman L. Geisler, "Analogy: The Only Answer to the 
Problem of Religious Language," Journal of the Evangelical Theological 
Society 16 (Summer 1973): 169-1705 cf. also A.J. Ayer, Lanqua^, 
and top ic (New Yorks Dover, 1952), pp. 114-118. 

J.I. Packer, "The Adequacy of Human Language," in Inerrancy , 
ed. Norman L. Geisler (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1980>, p. 119, 

20 Ibid., p. 209. 

21 Cited in Geisler, "Analogy," p. 174. 

22 Ibid., pp. 174-175:. 

25 Herman Bavinck, The Doctrine of God , trans. William Hendriksen 
(Grand Rapids, Baker, 1977), p. 92. 

2^ Packer, "Adequacy," p. 213. 

2^ Bernard Ramm, Special Revelation and the Word of God (Grand 
Rapids: Eerdmans, 1961), p. 41. 

2^ Ibid., p. 13. 

27 Cited in Packer, Cross, p. 14. 

20 Geisler, "Analogy," p. 179. 


29 Ramm, p. 41. 

^0 Geisler, "Analogy," p. 175f. 

^1 Ramm, p. 43, 

^2 Charles Kraft, Christianity in Culture (Maryteiolls Orbis^ 
1979), p. 31. 

Ian Barbour, Myths, Models, and Paradigms (New Yorks Harper and 
Row, 1974), pp. 51-565 on the "modesty" of models, cf. Kraft, p. 30. 
Ibid., pp. 126-133. 


122 



Kraft, pp. 28-31. 

Morris, p. 400, 

Packer, Cross, pp. 20-21, 

58 Frederick Copleston, S.J,, A History of Philosophy , 9 vols. 
(Garden City, N.Y.; Image, 1962), II/I; 177-186; New International 
Dictionary of the Christian Church, revised ed., s.v. "Anselm of 
Canterbury," by Robert Clouse. 

59 Anselm, pp. 245-246. 

Berkhof, p. 386. 

Ibid; cf. John Murray, Redemption Accomplished and Applied 
(Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1955), pp. 69-71. 

Anselm, p. 257. 

^5 Ibid., p. 285. 

Ibid., pp. 245-283: this is the tenor of the entire work. 

Ibid., p. 183. 

^6 Ibid., p. 279-280. 

Ibid., pp. 201-202. 

^8 Ibid., p. 231. 

Marc Bloch, Feudal Society , 2 vols., trans. L.A. Manyon 
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1961), I: 219-230. 

58 Anselm, pp. 208-210. 

51 Berkhof, p. 385. 

52 Geoffrey Bromiley, Historical Theology: An Introduction (Grand 
Rapids: Eerdmans, 1978), p. 179. 

55 Prefatory biography to The Atonement of Christ , by Francis 
Turretin, trans. James Willson (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1978), pp. 1-12. 

54 Turretin, p. 15. 

55 Ibid., pp. 55-56. 

56 Ibid., p. 20, etc. 

57 Ibid., p. 57. 

58 Packer, Cross , p. 5. 

59 Turretin, pp. 15-24. 

68 New International Dictionary of the Christian Church , revised 
ed., s.v. "Horace Bushnell," by Bruce Shelley. 

Berkhof, p. 386. 

62 Horace Bushnell, The Vicarious Sacrifice, 2 vols. (New York: 
Charles Scribner's Sons, 1907), 1: 23. 

65 Ibid., I: 235, 238, 239. 

6^ Ibid., I: 248. 

65 Ibid., I: 255ff. 

66 Ibid., I: 235. 

67 Ibid., I: 247, 251. 

68 Ibid., I: 267. 

69 Ibid., I: 270. 

78 Ibid., I: 268. 

71 See David Rothman, The Discovery of the Asylum (Boston: Little, 
Brown, 1971), pp. 79-108. 

72 C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain (New York: Macmillan, 1962), 
p. 120. 

75 Bushnell, I: 40. 

7^ Ibid., I: 270. 

75 Ibid., I: 74f. 

76 Ibid., I: 91f. 


123 



Ibid., l! 105f. 

78 Ibid., I: 305-306. 

79 Ibid., l! 71. 

88 Ibid., I: 495. 

®‘' Ibid., l! 41. 

82 Ibid. 

Ibid. 

84 Ibid., I: 3. 

Ibid., l! 31. 

88 Ibid., I: 29-30. 

®7 See B.8. Warfield, "'Redeaner' and 'Redemption'," in The 
Person and Work of Christ, ed. S.G. Craig (Philadelphia: Presbyterian 
and Reformed, 1950), pp. 325-334. 

New International Dictionary of the Christian Church, revised 
ed., s.v. ’’Charles Hodge," by Bruce Shelley. 

Ibid. ^ 

Charles Hodge, Systematic Theology, 3 vols. (Grand Rapids: 
Cerdmans, 1975), II: pp. 496-497. 

Ibid., II; 516-518. 

^2 Ibid., II: 518-520. 

Ibid., II: 542-543. 

Ibid., 11:530. 

Ibid., II; 541-542. 

New Internatioal Dictionary of the Christian Church, revised 
ed., s.v. "Louis Berkhof," by Dirk Jellema. 

97 Berkhof, pp. 384-391. 

98 Ibid., p. 392. 

99 Packer, Cross, p. 5, n. 1. 

100 Berkhof, p. 378. 

'^81 Ibid., p. 379. 

^82 Ibid., p, 378, 

'*03 loid., p. 383. 

'’8? Bushnell, I; 15-28. 

^85 Aulen, p. 88. 

^8^ Ibid., p. 5. 

"*87 See, e.g., ibid,, pp. 86-88, 

Ibid., p. 147. 

109 Ibid., p. 152, 

11° Ibid., p, 85. 

111 Ibid, p. 103. 

112 Ibid., pp. 103-111. 

11^ Helpful is the discussion in Ian D.K. Siggins, Martin Luther’s 
Doctrine of Christ (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1970), pp. 
108-143, 

11^ Martin Luther, Luthers Werke, Kritische Gesamtausgabe (Weimar 
Ausgabe), XXI: 259, cited by Siggins, p. 130. 

^•1^ Luther, m, XXI; 363, cited by ibid. 

11^ Luther, Galatians, ed. P.S, Watson (London: James Clarke, 
1953), pp. 269-271, cited by Packer, Cross , p. 32., n.33. 

117 Luther, WA, XLVI; 683, cited by Siggins^ p, 132. 

118 John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion , 2 vols., 
trans. Ford Lewis Battles (Philadelphia: Westnanster Press, 1960), I: 
530 . 

119 Packer, Cross , p. 10. 


124 



Hahn, p. 26, 

B.B. Warfield, "The Chief Theories of the Atonement," in The 
Person and Work of Christ , p. 355. 

Nathan Wood, Seven Lamps of Fire (Boston: The Warwick Press, 
1943), pp. 79-80. 



125 








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DEBARIM 

Volume 5 

Gordon-Conwell 
Theological Seminary 
1982-83
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